“You have a week to reconsider,” said
her husband late that bitter breakup night.
“If you persist in leaving, go ahead,
but understand you’ll never make it right.
The exit is one-way; you can’t return
once you depart (or send me through the door).
I love you. I can change. I swear I’ll learn –
agree or I’ll be angry ever more.”
He meant it. Though she never sought again
his love, he always knew he would refuse.
He didn’t often think of her, but when
he did, his grievous anger might abuse
its object, but she wasn’t there to smite,
and so it stewed in him and swamped his light.