The Break-Up

I wait for him at the cafe
Stood up
While waiting
For my drink,
For a miracle,
For someone to tell me I am wrong.
I wait for him
To say the words
Words I dread,
Words I need to hear
But he doesn't
His face
Wise, cruel, real.
I wait for the end,
My beginning
But it is I who initiates.
"I think we are over"
I say, he cries, we depart.
I feel his glimpses
Constantly
Intruding
I am devastated.
Taking a sip of my drink
I wait for regret,
sadness, a sense of the unwanted
Instead,
I am
Liberated.







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Found Poem Magic Baking Powder Over 100 years Baking Excellence Guaranteed Baking results Orange Almond Muffins Yield: 12 Muffins All Purpose Flour Sliced almonds, lightly toasted Storage Food safety Thoroughly cooked before eating Caution: Contains wheat, barley, oats. Nutritional facts. Since 1909 Robin Hood Enriched & Self-Sifted All Purpose Flour Recall.
Read more
What Do The Animals Say? Winter vacation in my hometown Always cold and snowy New year approaching Celebration at my grandparents’ farm Profuse animals on the farm Cows in the meadows Horses in the barn Chickens in the coop But one year a blizzard Our car blanketed Thwarting our advance Grandparents await anxiously the skies unrelentless White fluffy clouds became sharp knives stabbing our car My father swerving left and right but to left and curses under his breath But all I could care for were the animals Are the cows cold, Papa? Would the horses wear sweaters? Do the chickens have heat in their homes? Innocent musings Underlie my disposition   My observation toward the animals My indifference toward my present danger “We made it!” My father’s triumph I dashed for the barn Greeted with moos, neighs, and clucks I felt safe.
Read more
     My Childhood Crush Not as gorgeous as swans Boosting longer life to swans Not born a beauty Yet enjoy a beatific long life With the help from humans They appear peaceful and intact. Perfect or not, every single geese Unique in their own way Express the felicity that surrounds them One came close, honking his joy, I, five-year-old in pigtails Shrilled with laughter My hand outstretched My childhood halcyon days replete with geese and their pitter-patter This one was no different Waddling happily, no mal-intent, wanting The cabbage my palm confiddently held. I have no fear of this majestic king with plumage white and yellow It has nibbled from my hand before just two weeks ago in fact. I prepared for the tingling But got a snap, An angry honk, and a sharp cry; warm life liquid oozed forth staining the cabbage, the mud, the memory. How an innocent honk Sends shivers down my spine The kingly goose reigns down again.
Read more