Vengeance of the Scorned
Vengeance of the Scorned
by Jason Williams
Adrenaline is pumping, the clock is ticking.
To risk everything for a fleeting pleasure;
The logic escapes me. It doesn’t make sense.
Then again, he was always impulsive.
But this is no indulgence.
This is a lesson, albeit a harsh one.
A ruthless edification,
from the dark of a scorned heart.
The rapid thumping of footsteps on stairs, my cue.
I quicken my pace and release a great cry.
The door opens. I freeze. I watch. I wait.
And then I see it upon his face.
He feels it in his gut, the great sickness of betrayal.
Unbeknownst to him, I felt it a week before.
And so I look him in the eye and utter five words,
“Yes, THAT’S how it feels!”.
I play this scenario over and over in my head,
Searching for a satisfaction that never comes.
It’s just not who I am, I am NOT him.
And so I pack my bags instead, and say goodbye.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment