I remember she, swept away within the moment, arriving
nonchalantly and rather
calmly,
disregarding the seriousness and the gravity
of the situation which had arisen
quite alarmingly…
the lack of self-preservation which led me to believe she was
totally unaware how quickly the festive
atmosphere had
come
to an abrupt end nor did she realise her own life was at risk…
A whisper of a tear lie barely noticeable on her cheek leaving
a trail of salty wetness,
she letting out a muffled sigh,
a word,
as she attempted to usher in, regrettably failing to create a thought
she felt appropriate leaving her struggling
within a pause…
To have seen the look of desperation as I held her throughout
the long hours of the
night,
her countenance revealed by the softening glow of candlelight.
She had left the distinct odour of stale cigarettes and cheap
perfume as she gave a backward glance and closed
the door
leaving me with nothing more, but a remembrance of her ruby
red shoes, she clicking them three times, and I,
imagining she
had been swept away within a tornado heading straight for Kansas
and her Auntie EM…
It had been a long night of wasted merriment leading to another
fun-filled day of nausea, puking, and a hangover which
would not quit.
All of it least expected, and certainly not what I had hoped for,
or, for that matter, wished
for…
Awakening to the dim glow of candlelight and she peering at me
with those half-closed
eyes.
How had it come to this, had I even remembered her name,
let alone vaguely remembering she whispering mine
at a certain height of
awareness;
which I would rather tend to forget.
Not that she meant nothing to me, I was taught to treat everyone
with respect, even though this woman left me feeling
like the lowlife scum that I
was.
I was an easy pickup, and easy lay, her entertainment into the
evening and the long hours of
the night…
A love you long time kind of guy. Still, I felt used,
Taken advantage of.
Was there more I should remember, and I, peering out beyond
the Venetian blinds, letting a little darkness out
and a little sunshine in.
About James Sterling
James began writing at the age of 13, and he has published about 12500 pages of poetry on Facebook! He retired from work at the age of 62.
James is proud to share that he never edits what he has written, and that is the beauty of his writing!!
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