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The Other Woman

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My dear, I can't help wondering what I've done,
You've become so cold and distant these days,
And yet we always used to have such fun,
Happy together in so many ways.
You could have tried a bit harder honey;
I asked you not to be late home last night,
It was only our anniversary,
And a simple gift would have been all right,
Flowers, and perhaps a bottle of wine,
And we could have ordered a takeaway;
A cosy evening would have been just fine,
But as appears to happen every day,
It was well past midnight when you got home,
And once again I went to bed alone.

I know I'm no longer the girl you wed.
It was bliss when you led me up the aisle,
And you were always wonderful in bed,
Which made all the sacrifices worthwhile,
Giving up my career to build a home,
And bear you children to carry your name,
Not quite the future predicted by some —
I heard the whispers that it was a shame,
And such a waste — but it was my free choice,
And I had no regrets in those first years,
But now I often hear an inner voice —
If I was right — and distracted by fears,
I barely sleep, my recurring nightmare
That, bored with me, you will look elsewhere.

Can’t they really find someone else instead
For some of those weekend conferences?
I know you’re ambitious to get ahead,
And that you get substantial expenses,
Which mean we can afford more luxuries.
But surely there are more important things,
Than a fast car and costly fripperies,
Insubstantial things that only love brings,
Companionship, affectionate kisses,
Shared memories and silly jokes, laughter,
And tears, these are the things that one misses,
And their absence, unbearably bitter.
Tell me dearest husband what I should do
To bring you back to me, I love you so.




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