On the outskirts of society always looking in, romance is an entity you heard described but never experienced for yourself forever left on the shelf.
Family life, never was, your dad hardly around, just because. Mama taught you that you avoided a slap, if you kept her gin and tonic on tap. You were the man of the house, your sister teased with open blouse.
You chased normality at every turn but your attempts at relationships crashed and burned. Friends thought you too in their face, your fervor they can’t embrace.
Stalking is how you get your fix, always watching never having to mix. Families became your prey of choice, peaking through windows your vice. If mama was good you never met, but if she was bad, her routine you’d vet. Punishment you’d dish out, you loved to hear them shout.
If mama was playing offside, behind your balaclava you’d hide. Mama was in for some pain, sexual fulfillment your gain, orgasms you didn't feign.
Then you met the one, the mama you were unable to shun. Perfect in every way, loving to her kids, every day. She became your sole desire, the only one to light your fire. For the first time in your life you felt love, called her your turtle dove.
The night he hit her you felt the blow, you knew it was time, he had to go. He was now the one you hunted, evidence gathering, senses blunted. With his mistress you indulged, with your hatred for him, you plunged. He came to her defense as you knew he would, bludgeoned to death, you felt so damn good.
At his funeral, you stared with all your might, hoping she’d sense you, turn to you in her plight. You never seen such sadness, her, the kids, to grieve for him, madness.
You have met her now a few times, volunteering at the kids school, they all love your rhymes. She smiles at you but it never reaches her eyes, the hurt he caused her you despise.
It’s the older one’s birthday and you have been invited, to actually be in the house, you’re beyond excited. She’s thanking you for coming and shakes your hand, your having a moment where you stand.
She asks you to cut the cake, your doing your best not to shake. All your dreams are coming true the future is now down to you.
You see nights gazing into each others eyes, hers hypnotize. Happiness personified through days you glide.
This is going to be your family, picture perfect it will be.
Bio: Susan O’Reilly was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1968, she has only been writing creatively for four years. Her love of writing started when she penned a rhyming poem that won the photographer for her wedding. She has been published in an Anthology, Ireland’s own and in a She’s Graduating book for Hallmark in USA.