On Adultery

This is a poem I thought to write when my mind was was torn between numerous ideals that I thought each as equally worthless and yet, worthwhile. There is no right way to live, we simply must have the conviction to believe in ourselves, in everything we do. I thought about polygamy whilst I was in a monogamous relationship, I thought about the pains of polyamorous relationships for those who wish for monogamy. I understand that monogamy is not monotony, and the thought of having to hold such affairs as secrets was one that was painful to the delicate soul that yearns for more of everything, but finds true fulfilment in singularity: a single body, a single consciousness, a single path in life.

It is in this bed

I lie

within this bed

and lie

and love, and fuck

with one

and then… another.

Another to lay

by my side

as I lie, another day

and I die.

What dies is chastity.

What dies is disillusionment.

Who lays is another woman,

who lies is only I

and then, another day

another lie

another day I lie awake

and softly shall I cry

to know that day

I took another

and on that day you died

in my mind, your perfection

I marred with my own venom

and so, to keep you-

keep you here,

and still alive,

tomorrow I will keep from you

the truth, and so, I lie

to ensure you never cry

I lie, and lie,

and lie.

So softly shall I keep from you

the truth, and softly lie.

So bitter will my tears be

that I’ll try to hide.

So heavy is the burden

of truth

of which I will deny

so cumbersome, it buries me

and forces me to lie

upon the ground and

slowly

I die, and die

and die.