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What Wasn't

 
It  wasn't on bended knee
at sunset by the shore,
nor a jewelled promise
slipped on her third finger.

he yelled the question
while the Nets scored


Nor were there weekends in
St Lucia, dinners uptown,
nor ten thousand Champagne
promises in Paris,

got beer 'n' hot dogs,
kissed the ketchup off


on the Champs-Élysées.
No, it was how he held
her hand, witness to her
being in her own skin.

the game blurred past
the light in her eyes


Fifteen years later they
can't breathe each others' air
without writhing on the hook,
each seared moment, choking.

they count months of
clenched, measured loathing


"Hallmark 'n' Hollywood lie!
If you live in laced sin,
take what you're given and
bask in black Fortune's smile."

the youngsters, wide-eyed,
scurry past on their date






Written by Atakti
Published
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