The Widow

Her sour smile, like unsweetened lemonade, Made its way to me through the crowd. I grimaced and groaned, ungrateful of her sickly sweet and fake kindness. Miles of memories of our time together... The sunrises and sunsets, like a field of flowers in the fading sky... She left me alone, like Helen for Paris. My heart went pitter-patter as we passed in the halls. I'm afraid of being hurt again. She is nothing but a black widow for me.