shoulders straight, posture erect,
her message to him direct.
she knew what she'd have to endure.
her thoughts, so delicayely planned and pure.
she hated how things would go
but no other choice did she know.
they'd come a long way,
not fathoming they'd see this rued day.
they'd argue and fight,
and pretend nothing happened with all their might.
but, everyone knew, and felt sorry,
for they heard the doors slam,
and they heard em curse and damn; who would've thought...
but she knew it would. for she was a realist.
and so she braced herself, as the hurricane she unleashed passed, and with the light of dawn, she watched as he lay on the bare sand screaming her name... and she watched him watch her...as she walked away.
sweet necter, was she...
he, a thirsty honeybee.
YOU ARE READING
The cynic
PoetryA fine book of "must read" poems. For from romance and heartache was poetry born.
