Why did my cheating hurt her so?

It didn't count, I thought she'd know.

We’d fought through years of fat and lean,

she pointed fingers, I came clean.

I always was the one who strayed,

I thought that’s how the game was played.

I’d beg for mercy, no excuse,

it was a form of spouse abuse.

She’d hate me for a while, but then,

forgiveness flowed, we’d start again.

I often grappled with my guilt,

on shaky sands my honour built.

I tried to be an honest guy

but Venus always caught my eye.

That Goddess showed in many shapes,

lured me into cheating scrapes.

Then suddenly, I’m not sure why,

I made a vow, to stick not fly.

To give my patient, gorgeous wife

respectful love, and no more strife.

This time I knew I’d keep my word,

my escapades now seemed absurd.

My happy peaceful settled home

met all my needs, I’d never roam.

Until one day at work I fell

and banged my head, I felt unwell.

The medic sent me home to rest,

the searing pain burned in my chest.

I needed to go straight to bed,

so climbed the stairs, with pounding head.

I stumbled through the bedroom door,

bellowed "you bitch!", sank to the floor.

For what I saw, the final straw,

stuck like a fishbone in my craw.

My cheating wife, in flagrante,

screaming, like a whore from Dante.

As I expired I shouted, “Shit!”,

this truly was the biter bit.