The fresh cut lawn heavy, wet with dew,
Rainfall chattering to the obliging roof,

I bite my lip and hold my tongue,
As I watched her close the car door shut,
We were green minds when we were young,
We had drafted plans, unprepared for the ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’,

Footsteps approaching the welcome mat,
Keys clicking hastily, listening through heavy breath,

I try to look straight into her hazel eyes,
You clasp my hands, and offer to explain for my sake,
Her green blouse soaked, her arms hanging at her sides,
The gloom amidst confusion streams into her face,

Thunder clapping as an irritated audience would,
Floorboards creaking as each step becomes more crude,

My head fixated on hers, these lips trembling still,
We’re nose to nose now, you grip my shoulder tight,
Wide eyed and flushed, I’m breathing through my gills,
Guilt creeps behind then pounces strong, I don’t put up a fight,

“I’m sorry.”



© Hazim Haemoglobin




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