Her laughter sliced through me like the bitter winter wind, stinging the exposed flesh of my heart with sharp needles of sleet. Words that reduced me to sobs while I wrote, about her, and me, became a source of her amusement. My words... describing in verse the pain I felt when she last rejected my love; describing, too, my longing for reconciliation, not as the lovers I hoped we would become, but as the friends she wished to remain. Each word a window to my soul, unveiling emotions heretofore never revealed. She complimented me for my talent, to weave a story in rhyme. How could I tell her that laughter, was inappropriate at the time? Her reaction would have been different, if my talent was all she claimed. I know her laughter was innocent, lack of talent was to blame. Not at me was she laughing, sincerely she was amused. While she stood laughing at my words, emotionally I felt abused. Handing her the pages containing my words... The shreds of my heart spilled from my hands, staining the gutter of the busy parking lot where we stood. Left there to be swept away with the rest of life’s refuse. My face etched in ice... revealed none of the bruises inflicted by her laughter. Only when alone did the ice melt, flowing like tears down my now sullen face.
Reason for writing:
I recited a poem to a friend yesterday
Birth sign: Not entered
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