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She Longs To Be Free

She paints a life in soft-spun gold,   A dream where love won’t lose its hold.   She speaks of mornings, hand in hand,   Of simple joys, a life well-planned.   She whispers of a quiet home,   Of love that never needs to roam.   She swears that all she wants is me,   But I can see—she longs to be free.   Her eyes drift past the life she draws,   A longing laced between her pause.   She craves the world beyond our door,   Yet tells herself she wants no more.   No walls can hold a restless heart,   No love can make her torn soul part.   She wants this life—she swears it's true,   But deep inside, she’s passing through.
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Outa

In the quiet of his mind, Outa ponders deep,
His thoughts like tangled vines, they twist and creep.
"How can a marriage sail through tempest gust,
With a husband wrestling with desire's lust?"

Through the corridors of doubt, his footsteps tread,
Seeking answers in the whispers left unsaid.
For love, a fragile bloom, must weather trust,
Yet temptation's siren call can turn it to dust.

He wrestles with the shadows, the demons within,
Knowing that fidelity is where true love begins.
Yet passion's flame, a fierce and wild thrust,
Can blind the heart to the bonds of sacred trust.

But in the silent chambers of his soul,
Outa finds the strength to make his spirit whole.
For love, a beacon bright, will guide and adjust,
As he learns to conquer cravings born of lust.

With honesty as his compass, and devotion his mast,
Outa steers his ship through the storms amassed.
For a marriage to endure, it must weather gust,
With a husband who confronts his struggles with lust.

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