You dropped the F bomb on him.
The money is gone and the rigor mortis
of poverty sets in….your life was his.
He has always been your provider; always
the consoler and the strong dominate male
who stuck out his chest, with his chin high,
telling the world what part of your combined anatomy
they could kiss. But now that the protective 'force field'
has been penetrated by an unfortunate series
of circumstances beyond even his control;
you finally see him as we all are.... and it is your decision,
not his to determine the degree to which you love.

2008 © TS

Ted Sheridan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/please-proceed-to-the-under-ground-bunker-directly-over-your-head/