The anger gurgled up my chest painfully, hurtingly explosive -
That she would interpret me like that.
That she might be right -
That there was an element of truth in what she said.
Her preaching self-satisfied face looked ugly
With the complacent smile
Of having made her point.
She might be right indeed
But something for her died in me then.
All the warm feelings that wanted me
To give her my soul
Died in me then
I could not - would not respond.
I will not respond -
I will play the game of
'Everything is perfect'
And survive this time
And never say and walk away!
Copyright © Liz Walsh