A Sour Love Poem
Going with my fingers through your greasy hair,
I remembered how much I wanted to touch you
in spring
how much I desired your lips
in the rainy afternoons while walking to my private composition lessons.
Seeing the hellish grin on your new girlfriend’s face,
I felt as if a thin blade went through my body
literally,
very thin and very cold
at the same time burning me
with shame
and filthy disgust.
The moment of waking ignited my rage
very short-lived rage
which died in indifference
Because the waking was real.
© 2015, MK
Note: These were written for this week’s prompt at Three Word Wednesday: Greasy, Hellish, Ignite
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