He missed our 6 o'clock
dinner date, but
I didn't worry too much because
he never liked to be early, anyway.
He missed 6:30 too, but
even though the seconds were
loud
as they ticked by on my
borrowed watch
I forgot to worry.
But then he missed 7 o'clock too
and I worried
hard
because he never did that.
And then I found out that
he wasn't coming at all and that
I'd have to snatch a lift to the hospital because
someone had been on their phone and
that someone had been trying to drive
all at once
and
that someone had crashed his car
into a wreck.
And I rushed over but they wouldn't let me in because
they said that it was urgent
and
they said that they were operating
and
they said that I'd just have to wait.
They didn't say how long for.
So I sat alone, my heart breaking, shattering into
tiny pieces of hurt
and
pain
and
more hurt.
And I retrieved the folded napkin from my handbag.
Dear Lota,
Will you marry me?
YOU ARE READING
Drowning | ✓
PoetryWhen Lota fell for him it was like falling off a cliff: drowning was inevitable. Poetry #45 [13.10.14] Romance #453 [14.10.14]