Dear Sis Dolly,
After 25 years of his Rolls-Royce of lies. And my long base Siyaya patience. Trying to build a home, with him in mind, for our children... I found BooSassa in bed with the help, Agrizzi. I would give up my kidney and Louella pair to turn back the arms of time, to uncry the manifesto of tears that elected to condense me into a soapbox of fools right there in front of our creased bed linen and their damp devil may care birth suits.
It's been three months now: BooSassa has been sleeping in the car outside my parent's house where my younger sister lives with just her kids.
I left only with my prescription pills and the clothes on my back that dreadful day. Slowly now I can close my eyes for two hours a night without seeing myself swap her wretched Life Style Measurement 2 skin for my spa parlour drenched matte finish yellowbone.
Slowly now, I can finish my cheese-and-tomato without the urge to throw up every bread crumb to the sight of beige, her choice of underwear that day.
Slowly now I can read a full Nervous Conditions sentence without passing out before the full stop after the word "callous".
I don't hear his panting rhythm on her no more. None of his hoarse voice beaded in pearls of sweet-nothing whispers around her hired neck.
Now that I'm slowly healing, he wants my vote of confidence; confidence in his bonafides, he begs. Bagging he has done Sis Dolly, and passed cum laude. He bagged my life, my hope, my dreams ... for 25 years now, to squander with the ‘help’.
Now I want to know from you, should I take him back or must I hang his Agrizzi two-timer ass to dry this campaign season...?
Please help.
- Mrs Patience For Two-Long
