The Man I Married

The Man I Married

The man I married didn’t run off with other men and disappear.
The man I married didn’t prioritize drugs and sex over his husband.
The man I married didn’t manipulate and twist situations just to provoke emotional outbursts he could use to justify his running around.
The man I married didn’t vanish in the middle of the night while I slept, leaving me to wake in panic, in anxiety, in fear, because he was nowhere to be found.
The man I married didn’t grab another man’s hand in front of me and run out the door.
The man I married didn’t lie to my face about where he was going—only to run off to a park and shoot up drugs with other men.

The man I married didn’t put himself above me, but stood beside me as my equal.
The man I married was a man.

The man who left me was weak.
The man who left me acted like a child.
The man who left me forfeited his right to demand anything of me.

And so I hold the ring.
And I will keep it until the man I married returns—whoever that man may be.

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