She bathed in the love
he showered on her,
the tiny droplets like blood
staining the holy threads
that bound her to another …
The husband mourned his loss
and regret burned holes in his heart
for all the knots he had tied
in those same holy threads.
He imagined her basking
in her lover’s smile
and cried as she ate forbidden fruit.
He waited, his eyes to heaven
numbed to the pain he bore,
his self-respect shelved,
his deep guilt bared
for the wanting,
for the return
he hopes will come.
Holy threads that bind her to him,
holy threads to stretch and bend,
holy threads that with forgiveness
beg to pull her home.
C.J. Heck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-affair/
