His Willing Mistress

So I haven't posted anything lately but I assure you it isn't from laziness. I'm having a very bad case of writers' block. I can't write anything and when I do start, I can't finish. Believe me, I have tried  cos I hate not being able to write.
I think I lack inspiration. Could any of you sweethearts help? All I need is someone(or something) to give me a push. In the meantime though, I'll leave you with this poem.
The guys, please take it easy with me when you're done reading. Lol. 
Please, enjoy, comment, share and help me get started again!

It's another Saturday and he stood me up again
I lock the door behind me and fall my bed
The tears effortlessly running down my face, again
My head hurts, but not as much as my heart

I don't even know why I'm crying; he isn't mine.
He won't ever be; at least not entirely
All I get are stolen kisses
and quickies
and excuses
and apologies that come with presents
All I do is sit and wait
Waiting and watching; that's all I do
Watching for his call, his text, 
An assurance I am not forgotten

And when he comes it's never for long
Because to me he doesn't belong
But oh, those moments are my best
Because he fills my head with lies and puts my mind at rest;
even if it's for a short while only

It's not enough; it never is
But I can't complain cos I have no claim.
On him I could put all the blame
But it wasn't all him
In the beginning I didn't know
But even after I knew
I decided to stay
Maybe I truly wanted him
Maybe it was just the thrill of doing something wrong

He sought me
He chased me
He made me fall for him
Only to later tell me
That he's a married man
I wept for days unend
Trust me, there was no sign
Well, maybe there were subtle ones

He didn't want us to end
He just wanted me to know
To lighten his burden
To share in his guilt
Technically I was innocent
But it was still adultery
So what the hell, I thought
The hardest part is starting
I've already done that
Continuing was easy

Anyway, I committed
I shared in his burden
And now I'm his willing mistress
His personal whore
Private prostitute
To hide and to hold
To come to when he his libido is high and he has energy to burn
In boredom and in the absence of the madam
Till I'm gotten tired of

I want to stop, I do
I feel dirty and cheap
I want to hate him, sometimes I do
But it's never for long
And everytime I try, I end up falling deeper
Feeling dirtier and cheaper
Walking away is never easy
The fact that the wife has done nothing wrong doesn't make it any easier

The wife; she  still doesn't know
She sees him as an angel
But that doesn't change the fact that he's a devil in disguise
He took me and my feelings, something beautiful
And turned it into something ugly and filthy that breeds pain
And destruction

So I've come to a conclusion:
Men are liars
Men are cheats
Men are wicked
Men are destroyers
even without excuse
For their selfish gain
As to whether it's all men I'm still figuring it out

But I'm still his mistress, shamefully so
And a willing one at that.

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