They should, but amiably I blame the heart of thee,
Who confounds to natures rule of law free
Of a man with strength that maketh my breath thus flee
Look how one kiss, transformeth the sole heart of thine manhood
From sweet husband of another, to a lover of friar
Despite of matrimonial oaths thus flawed,
These be their golden times, they so seem bored
Two misplaced souls in a lone lust of cage
That seemeth to lead to a path of destruct
By Carolyn Gatonye
The above is a poem I wrote. Not so long ago. Of a relationship between married people; who are not married to each other. Or just people who cheat(in committal relationships). I wrote it as I wondered, "What makes people cheat?". What really does?
Does a person wake up one day and decide, well, tonight am gonna break my vows. Is it the boredom and routine? The "getting used to the same stuff"? A close friend once told me he cheats because the wife had become so obvious. And wothout a care to the wind, he made this behavior a routine and the phrase "obvious" became his scape goat. Of-cause the marriage led to a bitter divorce with each wanting a share of the kid. Is it worth it?
Is the forbidden fruit ever worth our sweat? They say most men will rarely leave their wives for the "others". And when they do, the "spontaneity" usually ends. After a while, we discover that nothing ever lasts forever if it started on a wrong foot.
Call me old-school but I believe cheating in a marriage institution(or any relationship with a future) is one of the deadliest sins. I usually don't get it. Leave alone the vows before God and man, the flashy wedding and pictures, the limo and all glamorous charades. The heart. Do we lie to the heart? Our own hearts? Marry for the sake of it? To please the society and make things alright? Have kids inside a "sacred institution"?
I tend to believe that by the very few strides we take to the "forbidden land", we also break a piece of our own hearts. Break an institution in pieces. We kid ourselves, "It cant last", "I love my girlfriend", "He is just my toy". We make ourselves believe it. And use others to mend a broken hole of our own sorry lives. Lives spent on lonely beds, lonely homes, we tie our lives in shackles that we cannot break. We become just mere roomates with them that made us tick! Yet we fail to swallow the bile of pride, and identify where we went wrong...the wrong bed! Kiddish..desires!
We give excuses, yet we know its never as sweet as we let it seem. We give 'conquering' stories. Stories given with so much jest to friends who look at us in "awe". Yet deep inside, secretly, we admire the faithful silent man, who daily has no humor to share, of 'subdued women' on a forbidden bed.
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