Moment of weakness

It's been one year and three months since we've been back together.
We've had our first child.
We've moved from Phoenix to Dallas.

We've fallen in love and out of love numerous times.

We are in a rough spot right now.
I am not sure if I want to stay or go. If I should stay.
I hurt you.
You hurt me back.
I tell you I am miserable and I want to leave.
You tell me you love me and want to make this work.
I push you to the brink and watch you drown in a sludge of Bud Light.

Then you talk to her.

For the first time in a year and three months.

Now, I am stuck sitting here, waiting for you to come home.
I don't know what I am going to say to you.

I don't know if I am going to demand you get out.
I don't know if I am going to fight for this marriage.
I don't know if I am going to hear you out.
I don't know if I am just going to break down and cry.

I can't tell you how angry I am.
There aren't words for it.

But underneath the anger I am so hurt.
I so badly want to be the one you love.
I want our daughter to grow up with both of her parents.

I want to get back what we use to have.

We use to have magic.
For years, we had magic.
We were that couple.
The couple other couples envied.
The couple that other people thought would last forever.

And now, we are that couple no one else wants to be.
It's not all your fault.
I wish I could say it was.

But you can't deny you slice me to the quick.
Sometimes, I am barely hanging on by a thread.
And you keep fraying the little bit I have left.

I already know what you're going to tell me when you walk through that door.
You're going to tell me that you love me.
That you love our daughter.
That you want our marriage to work.
You want our family.

That you had a moment of weakness.

Did you have a moment of weakness?
Or a moment of truth?

Is she the one you really want?
And not me?

Is this failed dream you had of her more important than the eight years of blood, sweat, and tears we've had?