Broken

Sometimes I feel broken.
Broken by my husband's desire to fuck other women.
Broken by my despair and hopelessness.
Broken by the loss of a love that was blissful.

I'm not actually broken.
It's not me that is broken.
It is my relationship with my Master and husband.

The relationship is broken.
The connection between us is broken.

The connection that was so dear to us both.
This connection is damaged.
I try to act like nothing is wrong.
When I do, my actions feel insincere.
I know he feels the loss as well.
A loss that is tempered by his NRE (New Relationship Energy: another stupid thing the polys have invented to make themselves justify the pain of having their partner go off and get busy with some other person).
He doesn't feel the broken I feel.
He only feels the arms, lips, vagina and ass of some other woman.
It dulls his broken.
Like some kind of medicine.
I guess I'm glad he is spared some of the agony.

It is sharp and painful to me as walking on broken glass.
A knife shoved into my chest each time he mentioned his metamour (another one of those made up poly words).
I feel every moment of pain.
Flinch at the smell of some other woman on his lips.
The knowing that he was fucking her just hours before coming home to conquer me.

My reaction?
I shut down.
I can't stand the pain.
I want it to stop.
I want to jump off the glass and find a way to soothe my tortured heart.

Can we repair the broken?
Can the connection be mended?

I don't know.
I know of no glue to fix it.
No amount of talking seems to fix it.
No amount of affection eases the sorrow.
As long as my Master continues on this path, our home and love is broken.