The Emo Diaries

My life isn't how I expected it to be.
There is no white picket fence,
I cannot hear the squeal of children's laughter.
There is only the silence,
a cumbersome black dog that nips at my heels
following me from room to room.

I thought he knew
that I didn't marry him for his money
but because I saw something between us
like a golden bridge,
built of my hopes.
I was blinded by the possibilities.
And now I'm blinded by their absence.

Now my pride is nursed by the martini
that numbs the cold I endure from him all day.
His own secretary shares more meals with him.
I thought he was my white boa-clad knight.
I can only presume
from the cold and pristine bedsheets on his side
that he did not return again.

I try to tell him what I desire
that the Gucci and the Prada could go to hell.
I wanted it to be like it was before the ring,
stories by the fire, clad only in each other's arms,
midnight walks on the beach under jealous moons...
But like my dreams, he has become evanescent,
I cannot remember even the heavy scent of his cologne,
the weight of his hair, or the feel of him in me.
I am lost in the shadows, fading into the memory of us.