DILEMMA!

I love my man
Though,
I am at my wits end.
Every night he is out
And when he does return
He is too tired to talk
And his voice is hoarse.
He does not drink alcohol
Neither does he smoke
Though every night he comes home
He smells like a brewery
And his shirt stinks of cigarette smoke.
Sometimes I can swear
I smelt traces of a perfume.
When I confront him
He denies it
Kisses my forehead
Looks me in the eyes and says
“You know I love you,
The last thing I would do is cheat on you.”
But,
As soon as the phone rings he is out the door.
I am not a drama queen
Though, I miss being the centre of his attention.
I have heard enough of this
I gather up my courage
Walk up to him
And just as I am about to talk
He yells…..

Goaaaaaal…..
Now tell me how do I compete with that?

©thelma migue,2010