I love you, but...

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More poetry about love and heartbreak inspired equally by the #MissMuseMe prompts on Twitter and my last breakup.

His love for her showed through

the blinding light of his smile,

his pearly white teeth,

perfect,

glinting like diamonds

mirroring the light in his eyes;

a light that came from somewhere

deep below

in the cavernous cage of his chest.

 

Her hand upon his rib cage

could feel the

thump thump

drum beat of his heart,

matching rhythm with her own.

 

With his mouth,

he spoke of future times,

when things would be easier,

when they could be truly

together,

when he would be free,

free of his

previous commitments.

 

She turned away,

knowing deep within

from the depths of knowledge

that only women possess,

that it was all false,

pretense,

pretend,

nothing more.

 

He came to her,

wrapped his arms

lovingly

around her waist,

in that way that screams

of comfort and protection.

 

He whispered to her

then,

“I love you.”

He whispered it

along her neck a dozen times

with only his lips and the tip

of his tongue.

 

She could feel herself

relaxing into his embrace,

the slightest ray

of hope

pushing away her doubt;

she began to give in

to the pretense.

 

She felt worthy

for the first time

in her life,

worthy of this love

that he professed,

worthy of the adoration

of his hands upon

her body,

of his lips upon

her flesh.

 

“I love you,

but…”

 

He would never know

how his words

destroyed her,

melting her fragile

self-image

like wax.

 

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