Loose Page Fell out of Diary – No Date On it – So Placing Here.

Infidelity is like one of those people you meet  – who breaks the molds of anyone you’ve known before – so you’re not quite sure about them at first. They’re either really smart and playing it brilliant, or real dense and not getting it at all – when you first meet them, you can’t tell which. If smart, wouldn’t it mean they’re deceptive as well? How else could someone so smart leave it to anyone’s guess as to whether they’re a dunce or clever – to be pitied or feared. Sometimes you draw when you could have laid down – to avoid the risk when it’s not certain if they’re bluffing. Maybe they don’t even see their own hand, but what if it’s you who’s missing what game they’re playing?

Does the cheater do it only for the power? It’s a dark truth, if we cheat, we grab the power – it’s an entirely unjust acquisition. Now we control what both sides know. Now the truth is ours to administer upon the others,  control them with. We are the gatekeepers of truth about all the stuff we’re doing, and all the stuff our lovers will, or will not be knowing.

And it’s bad, dreadful, drastic – to be on the cheated side, but even worse for the accessory to the cheating., When we’re the other – the cheater’s lie, we indirectly undermine our lover’s spouse – standing by as the cheater lies to a person who doesn’t even know we exist – let alone ever done us any harm. The guilt can weigh heavy and such choices make very little room for sympathy.

When serious people defy what they know is right, it’s a bloodbath inside. Fighting oneself is always a losing battle.The strongest are capable of doing the most damage – especially to themselves if that’s who they end up at odds with.

But it’s a fool’s errand, to own-to-death so much guilt about a situation where you’re just the other, the farthest from center – the least in the know – and cheapest for getting into a situation where you’ve got the least of anyone to gain.

The cheater always wins, unless, and until, they lose someone and get their own heart broken.

 

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Holy Shit, You’re My Accountant

You’ve done my taxes for three years.
I hire you for your diligence
but your body is amazing,
Beautiful how you dress so professional.

I can’t stop thinking about where things went
I ran into you, both of us alone by the beach,
Hiding out mid afternoon with our drinks
More buzzed than we should be that early.

On your third Cosmo, for me Martinis
We found an excuse to walk to my place
Once we arrived – to see my paintings
Lust hijacked our day, reconnecting.

Anatomy never before so efficient
Not half a minute – way up inside,
You began and kept coming, saying
“Oh my god, you feel so amazing.”