Had to enter the fray, since this will be the last RFW entry till August for me.
Based on the prompt of the same name as the title, a story or poem in 400 words or less.
Puts away his clothes as usual.
the routine followed each night,
He stands by, saying nothing.
Adjusts the covers on the queen sized bed,
another of those things to be done,
aware of his eyes on the movements made.
That night, they lie down together one last time.
she knows, he knows, pretend otherwise.
Hold her hand, promising another string of lies,
she believed them often, now, not one.
The dark, sleepless hours seem never ending,
her courage peaks and wanes.
The dawn should bring respite for both,
She, for once, no longer plays
the imperfect specimen of the wife,
embarking on the new journey of a perfect ex.
Lost in the pride of his invincibility,
a blind heart in denial of the inevitability.
These six weeks past mark her revenge
a small price for the six years he has stolen.
The house is clean, the fridge is stocked,
the dinner awaits him on the dining table,
most of her things, he claimed took valuable space,
gone from this house empty of her footsteps.
All that remain are the few material pieces
he boasted to be acts of needless generosity.
She leaves behind memories of the past,
could choke and strangle any feeling mortal.
Takes along enough of a future,
no share or meddling by him, afraid not, any more.
wc 217
For Romantic Friday writers
Writing after a fortnight was tough, I struggled and barely pulled through.
I posted this just about managing to keep the friday score. Will be visiting the others tomo and also those kind ones that read my previous post.
Based on the prompt of the same name as the title, a story or poem in 400 words or less.
Puts away his clothes as usual.
the routine followed each night,
He stands by, saying nothing.
Adjusts the covers on the queen sized bed,
another of those things to be done,
aware of his eyes on the movements made.
That night, they lie down together one last time.
she knows, he knows, pretend otherwise.
Hold her hand, promising another string of lies,
she believed them often, now, not one.
The dark, sleepless hours seem never ending,
her courage peaks and wanes.
The dawn should bring respite for both,
She, for once, no longer plays
the imperfect specimen of the wife,
embarking on the new journey of a perfect ex.
Lost in the pride of his invincibility,
a blind heart in denial of the inevitability.
These six weeks past mark her revenge
a small price for the six years he has stolen.
The house is clean, the fridge is stocked,
the dinner awaits him on the dining table,
most of her things, he claimed took valuable space,
gone from this house empty of her footsteps.
All that remain are the few material pieces
he boasted to be acts of needless generosity.
She leaves behind memories of the past,
could choke and strangle any feeling mortal.
Takes along enough of a future,
no share or meddling by him, afraid not, any more.
wc 217
For Romantic Friday writers
Writing after a fortnight was tough, I struggled and barely pulled through.
I posted this just about managing to keep the friday score. Will be visiting the others tomo and also those kind ones that read my previous post.
