moody copy

She wishes she hadn’t seen him.

The chance encounter that she wants to erase,

like chalk on the board of her life.

The casual, flippant,

“Hello, how are you?”

The most common words in the english language,

along with,

please, thank you, take care, enjoy;

that’s what she’d thought.

“How are you?”

What was she supposed to say?

The lie.

“I’m fine, good, great.”

The truth.

How am I? Seriously? You stand there with your magic hands stuffed into deep coat pockets, hands that explored every part of my body, hands that kissed me with delicious fire, and smoothed across my skin like an angel’s breath, and ask, how are you? I have no fucking idea.

She wishes she hadn’t seen him,

because now he is dead.

Not dead, dead.

He is still walking and taking,

but her memories,

wisps of moments,

floating aimlessly,

always there,

shadowing, reminding,

sweet sad sighing smiles,

now evaporated.

Once upon a time

he was a warrior,

strong, wise, kind.

Now he is human,

frail, foolish, thoughtless.

She wishes she hadn’t seen him.

She’d thought he was,

The One!

She’d had it, felt it, lived it.

The One,

would not have fallen so far from grace.

The One,

would have grown

stronger, wiser, kinder.

She wishes she hadn’t seen him.

It has left her empty.

The One

never was.

She knows that now.

Does it mean,

The One

still waits, and she must?

Or perhaps her time has come and gone,

and

The One,

for her,

 will never be.

https://www.amazon.com/author/maggiecarpenter

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