There is a sadness in her smile,
a sorrow that conceals itself within
the curl of the corner of her lips.
It's like watching someone discover
small good in a series of bad
There, she sits, with her back arched
away from the comfort of the sofa,
ready to run but hoping to stay
All she knows is the me of hearsay,
the whispers and tales from the
of mutual acquaintances who will not
allow me to change from what was...
This is the me she expected.
This is the me she wanted to not
The ambivalence was painted on her
the outer layer of sheen that
the make-up she wore to protect her
But I knew, more than I knew her
I knew the look of self loathing that
beside wanting something, someone,
was bad for you. This was that look.
She had come to me with purpose,
with no goal less than the
She wanted my heart
and would risk her virtue
for the chance to confirm
I did or did not had one...
She had heard my stories, read my
and desired the wounded writer she
no woman could have beyond a
She yearned to be the exception...
She needed to be more than merely
another distraction to me.
She would disprove the rumors of
own identity by capturing a user of
who had dirtied the name she truly
All she had to do was become more
lessen the value of her body, offer
for the fragile promise of my
attention for as long as possible.
All she had to do was make sex
The reverse of what she was raised
The opposite of what she wished
This was years ago...
when ignorance allowed bad and
black and white, to be equated
with the world in her eyes.
Before life itself taught her
of the truer reality of shades of grey.
Back before she knew that her
was hers alone to create.
Back before she had children,
no husband, and a list of lovers
too long for her to want to
Back before she realized that she
change anyone but herself...
Before she made the choice to give
herself to my drunken desire,
lascivious nature, and uncaring
Today, I saw her long enough for her
to confess this all to me...
Standing before me as every single
she once prayed to never become,
She confessed her honest regret of
her actions, and all decisions that
It was after I returned home that I
It was only then that I remembered
I vividly recalled the night she spoke
And a sad sense of sorrow came
as I recalled the morning after...
And I remembered everything...
And one memory filled me with guilt,
One memory knocked the wind out
and replaced it with shame and
One memory ensured that I would
remember her name from that
It was the one truth I should have
to never forget after my night with
"She was inexperienced,
she was in pain during,
there were blood stains on my bed