She didn’t understand him. She had never understood him. She wondered why she loved him. He was elusive. He was foreign in his differentness. And yet. He pulled her. Yanked at her with his allure. Kept her aching for him in his absence. She knew they were no good together. They were mountain and plain. And yet. He roamed in her thoughts incessantly. Showing up when he shouldn’t. When he ought to be safely tucked away behind duty or honor. Until the day she stopped fighting. Found him and said, “Enough, let’s do this.” And he pulled her so close she could smell his minty breath. Then he excused himself. She waited, checked her watch, waited longer. Finally, she realized that he was not there. Wouldn’t ever be there. Perhaps had never really been there. She ordered a steak dinner and ate in relish. A celebration of their time whatever. Strawberries and cream commemorated her release. She left the restaurant. Sad. Relieved. Satisfied.
Prose Poem: Truth
Posted by lenleatherwood on
Published by lenleatherwood
I am a native Texan who has lived for the past 27 years in Los Angeles. I am a published author of both short memoir and fiction, a Pushcart nominee, a nationally award-winning writing coach, an editor, as well as a Licensed Professional Counselor in the state of Texas. In addition, I am the mother of three grown daughters of whom I am extremely proud, a grandmother of three darling children and the wife of a man I still love after 41 years. View all posts by lenleatherwood