I got you, he said.
I trusted with my heart
We will have a great life.
I got you, he said.
I choose you, he said.
I held our baby in my arms
As he told me he loved porn.
And that it doesn’t matter–
I choose you, he said.
I got you, he said.
I raised the kids
He slept through our cries
He gave little smiles with distant eyes.
I got you, he said.
I choose you, he said
Physically present, yet mentally gone.
I created our life.
Come with us, I would ask.
Another time was always his reply.
I choose you, he said.
I got you, he said.
Avoiding bedtime routines and tuck-ins
Choosing games over time and touch
I got you, he said.
I choose you, he said.
Writing notes of plans that would never be.
Professing adoration for others to see
At night I would reach out and he was gone
I choose you, he said.
I got you, he said
Over missed conversation and experiences.
Those words carried so much hope.
I gripped onto the words to keep them from floating away.
I got you, he said.
I choose you, he said.
I would ask for time and feel disconnect
He would go, if I planned.
I would ask questions with tears in my eyes.
Clenching his jaw and looking away,
I choose you, he said.
I got you, he said.
The words escaped from my hand,
Lifting away the empty promises.
I was left alone.
I got me, I said.