The difference is I’ve lived I’m sorry,
not just heard the hollow of the words
echo through these years.

The difference is I repent, turn, turn
from root of evil within me even as I
watch you dig your heels in,

justify all the good you did outside
our empty home where I waited – I,
wife of your youth, growing old

too soon. The difference is you cast me
aside, withdrew your love even as flower
of our union blossomed within my belly.

The difference is I would have stood by you
through anything, but you left me sitting alone
spilling these tears for nothing.