Role Model

Infidelity was intolerable.  

"Choose, and ends it straight."

She closed her eyes to digest the newly-fed information and the words challenged, "Everybody's normal till you get to know them."  This day had arrived earlier than she had predicted.  Flashbacks threatened her, she wanted them erased.  It hurt when a sister she was and all the more for her to follow the steps.    

... when love betrayed.

Green-Eyed Monster

She lived with a perfectionist, who worked her days off from morning to night.  She was a working bee which never failed the queen.  Yet, they were known for the works, works which were done by only one bee.  She nested late as a company, not for the honey.  Who would have known, but herself.  None perceived.

Perfectionists were lauded for their works.  And, their best friends, they would not dumb it.  Thus, they praised, she extolled; however, imperfectionist never did it right.  Her lavish praises irritated others.  In return, she received a shut-up look.       

She did not idolize her works; strength could not find to uphold such burdens.  But, wouldn't you want a high achiever?  The monster warred within her.  Hate not, my dear, hate not.  

Dishonest intentions, she did not, but she just wanted to be happy for the person who deserved the credits.  She wanted to be happy for her.  She deserved the credits.    

A Faint Blind Date

If you were real, I wished that we met before we went out on a blind date.  She read herself like a book; she knew what she would do.  The date, she would spoil.  There would be no happy endings.  So, let it be without me knowing.  Unconscious.  Period. 

You sound so real to my ears; she found him haunt her dreams.  Though she denied it, she could not escape the fact that he spooked her to life.  

She was no attractive girl, yet she could not accept no unattractive man.  Love does not find its grounds on such superficial reasoning.  No, no; she scribbled a list of words to sum her My Dream Guy.  Such man did not exist, she realized.     

I agree to live old, thus intimidated her not.  But, if you were real, her life would be written with a different story.   

The Old Book

She flipped through the torn pages, each written with promises.  The old book, which she used to read, was now abandoned, on the shelf, untouched, buried under the dust.  Supposedly the stories made a flashback.  Instead, the stories were dead.  

My soul is dead.  Open this book, and be my author; let my soul springs forth with life.  My life needs no sparkles nor glitters; it needs a story.  You are the author, who wrote this story from once upon a time.  Be that author who ends it the way it was meant to be.  Me and my big mouth shall speak no other stories but yours.

She closed the book, and placed it back.  

She needed a miracle.   

She Laid Down

What's on your mind?  she wondered.  Are you thinking the same way I do?  Tune me in to your hearts.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.  He would laugh.  Yupe, she disagreed.  Like the whole world agreed, it was never meant to be.  She could not believe she was finally giving in.  So open, for the first time, realizing it was a mistake from the very beginning.  She accepted the fault, and relinquished.  Yet, in her, she wanted to know... the secrets from within him, the secrets from within you.

He found someone, she knew.  And he loved her, she knew; he never failed to remind her.  From the first to the last, she held true to his words.  She wanted so badly to pour out, but obediently withdraw, yes, you love her.  She was his reason of no return.  

She smiled: Let me know when you do.  Still perturbed.

From him, Received.   

The Piano

The sound of piano sang songs to her.  Each note strummed her hearts, gentle as each finger carefully worked through the chords.  Each stroke whispered her warmth.  So peaceful like a lullaby, laid her down on the green, green grass, rocking and rocking her to sleep.  

Wake Up

"Come, have a seat."

She hated the invite.  

"Come, sit."

"Go on, sit down.  They are friends."

She could not be comforted.  The woman sitting next to her was partly talking, partly boasting, or perhaps partly seducing;  she was confused.  She cursed the man who married her.  If you answered the call, we wouldn't be sitting here with another man.  She would not forgive t-h-a-t man, the man who forfeited his duty as a husband and father.  What is a man he is made of?  

Her anger relentlessly exhausted her.  She swallowed them tear-dry.  

One hour later.  When he finally called, he asked for the car-keys.