The Curtain Fell

Foolish to linger.  There is a balance to the delight.  You both played your parts. Often it is manifest in fleeting affection.  The curtain fell long ago. Tis better to remain oblivious to the likelihood that your world will be pulled asunder.

You wanted to take a bow.  Giving the heart ample opportunity to cling to her. But some honest critique of your performance, will find it lacking. When the news comes, you can caress the devastation.  Rendering the silence, on the stage you once shared, maddening.

50 Word Thursday #9

This is my attempt at the 50 Word Thursday #9 prompt.

This week’s quote:  “He was the stuff schoolgirl dreams were made of.  Unfortunately, she was no longer a schoolgirl.”

 

Rounding the corner from the elevator, she saw him. He was the stuff schoolgirl dreams were made of.  Unfortunately, she was no longer a schoolgirl. As district attorney, she cannot let what they had cloud her judgement.  The man flooding her memories, is charged with the murder of his wife.

 

Thanks for sharing Deb.

Fifty Word Thursday

Woeful Tiny Tales

 

There are certain truths, that have been with me now for nearly a decade.  A list of ideals that served as a reminder. A testament to a scorned heart.  Notions such as ‘She talked about trust, but forced me to learn forgiveness’. ‘She talked about redemption, but left me in hell’.  Foundational passages like ‘She talked of opportunity, but never gave me a chance’. The truth I realize, in all of it’s brutality, as time tilts ever forward, is that the me and she in these woeful, tiny tales of misery, could change places.  The truth however, would remain constant.

Lanham Cinquain

These are a few American cinquain.  I like the rhythm of these. *Some harsh language*

 

Hello

Girl my old friend

How are you, I am fine

Do you recall the love we shared

Me too

 

In there

You will find it

How much do you require

Take the whole thing it won’t expire

Today

 

Lying

About what now

Always the same it seems

Your wants over the best for us

Fuck you

 

At last

Is what she said

After finding the one

She can no longer live without

Not me

 

Baby

I call her that

In our time of passion

With the lights low or anywhere

I’m hers

 

Have you

Can you say it

Without hesitation

You loved her first without failing

Thought not

FOWC with Fandango-quintessential

FOWC with Fandango-quintessential

My take on it.  Thanks Deb Whittam

 

Having one last look around the apartment, he finds nothing out of place. Dinner is warming in the oven, thanks to his brother in law, the chef. The wine is chilling. The snow is falling. An inviting fireplace crackling  makes his apartment cozy. The table is perfect. Careful planning went into making this the quintessential evening alone together. Doorbell rings, “God am I ready for this.” he says out loud to himself.