The Lie

Fifteen years
to know your own lie.
Walk a line,
a  path well trod.
Bind the lie with a band.
Together hold hands.
Didn't know when I lost your grip.
Unfurled loss ,a loss of my heart.
Where is he? people ask
I say it is his choice not to play
So alone I tread the path
and dance the dance
of mourned love lost
Widowed without a dream
Just a lie to test my weary head.

No need to say anymore, I think you get the picture. Welcome to my headspace and all the joy of struggling with yet another day. Prescribe some of those yippeee beans for me will you or present me with the divorce  papers, at least it wouldn't be so mind numbingly suffocating.