By Harem
Date: 8 March 2001
` Willing to Let Her Lover Die `
WILLING TO LET HER LOVER DIE ( a true story)
Making love is not always a sign of love.
Sounds like a confusing statement.
One would think that sharing intimate moments would mean something.
That it would indicate some type of feelings on the part of both partners.
Yet I have seen the opposite to be the case.
Very disturbing to my mind
to imagine the sharing of physical closeness mean nothing.
For lovers , to not care for the well being of each other.
One event stands out in my mind vividly to express my sentiments here.
My husband was having a long term affair with an older woman.
She lived directly across from our trailer.
When I would go to work at night, she would come over
And climb into our bed, until it was time for me to come home.
When I suspected the arrangement, both parties denied it vehemently.
Many years later, I found it to be true.
Yet I am not writing about traitors, but about lack of feeling amongst lovers.
I still can not comprehend this dilemma.
The night of the trailer court fire is a prime example.
When I arrived home that night during the fire.
Much to my surprise, no one had attempted to warn my husband.
Everyone was outside hosing their trailers down with water.
As the gas tanks exploded and spread the fire in wild gusts.
I noticed her, outside her trailer with her garden hose.
Totally oblivious to her lovers slumbering as his trailer caught fire.
The crackling and woofing of the flames beating hard on our eaves.
Callously she ignored the death trap of her adulterous lover inside.
How could a woman sleep in his bed, breathing love into his ears.
Taking him to erotic heights of pleasure, night after night.
Caressing him, touching him, kissing him, loving him,
And yet care not if he perished in the fire that night.
Even though I was not totally sure that night of their relationship.
I can still recall rolling down the car window as we drove away
To share a parting thought with her.
He stopped the car for that brief moment to say goodbye to her.
My last words to her that night were ......
Did you try to wake him,... Did you knock on the door....?
Did you try to call him on the phone ? Did you do anything to warn him?
Looking stupefied back at me..... her ownly reply was.......
"NO"
I asked why not.......
Her reply.... "I don't know."
She wanted his body, his words of endearment, his whispers in the night.
But she cared not if he perished that night, in the blaze of hell......
..............................................
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