Rust Stain

It started as a thin discoloured line a blemish in the beautiful flawless paint. I asked you to fix it. You didn’t.

The colour spread – a bit more each week. Hard to notice at first but it was persistent. I asked you to fix it. You didn’t.

The warm weather came and finally you sanded down the stain you painted over the blemish. It didn’t take, and before long the stain returned. I asked you to fix it. You didn’t.

Finally one day you primed the spot and my heart sang. Believing it could be beautiful again. But then it sat sad and neglected exposed to salt and harsh elements.

Where once there was a stain there is now an ugly hole…

It started with neglect an unpaid bill an unfinished chore a forgotten promise. I asked you to fix it. You didn’t

I stuck my head in the sand for a while and the problem grew. A website women prettier than me. I asked you to fix it. You didn’t.

You agreed to talk and I was cautiously hopeful. I asked you to fix it. You said we would try. You didn’t.

You left me one day scared and alone perhaps a misunderstanding.

And then one day the unthinkable another in my bed while you filled my head with lies. You asked me to fix it. I didn’t.

You were the salt that spread the stain and wore a hole in me. You asked me to fix it I couldn’t.

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