she never really knew
how to miss a husband
the man she married
invested less on emotions ;
his cockiness allowed
that perverted indulgence
mastering the savage art
of a forced sperm on a limp,
exhausted body, still
hurting and bedridden
from a three-day flu

her bruised lips burned white
a useless rage on bed
toying with a crazy idea,
that silly probability
of marrying a rainbow ;
such a preposterous prayer
was her only form of escape
hoping a wife's misery
would finally blend
the rough dark spots
right at the center
of the rainbow's arc

but wishes and dreams
don't really come true
thus, I plead for her case
allow her to borrow
your memories please
so, she can fill up the blank pages
on the faded diary sitting idle
far too long on her empty table

she really didn't have
a memory, if ever,
equating a husband
with gentle affection
it was not part of the
vocabulary and language
of her wedded journey

yes, she surrendered
and rested her case
perhaps, hunting idle clues
from the missing debris
of a failed union
is a futile exercise
for broken wives like her

but we, who have escaped
have embraced the truth
we don't really need
a husband's validation
and confirmation
to find ourselves
and discover new paths
of endless possibilities.