Burn Away the Tears
I like to think we were in love,
I and the girl so different than me--
Torn leather jacket, one fingerless glove.
My babydoll dress to her faded blue jeans.
She cared too much, it dragged her under,
Played with fire and ice to mask her fears.
Her wishes drowned out by rolling thunder,
Only I could see her dried-up tears.
I believe we were in love, once,
Before she was blinded by a world of weapons.
But her cautious love was the devil's last chance
To steal her away from the pillars of Heaven.
It seemed that she was gone already
As I shut my eyes and wished her well.
And I heard the engine in her '57 Chevy
As she ran from love like a bat out of Hell.
Oh... Gods. Another date. Another man. Another nightmare.
And this one's asking me to talk about my writing.
What a way to make it worse.
"Oh... Mostly commissions," I say, smiling sheepishly and averting my gaze. As long as he stays content with that answer, all will be well.
But of course, he wasn't, because who is? Curiosity is a fearsome warrior.
"What kind of commissions?" He asks, leaning forward to show his enthrallment with my sub-par writing hobby.
"Mostly romance, really; that's quite popular nowadays," I grin, hoping to throw him off my back, to no avail. His eyes gleam with excitement, so I offer him a bit more to chew on. "I work on my novel occasionally, but it's truly not much,"
"I'm a romance reader myself," he leaned back, cutting my words off and crossing his arms, as if content with his actions.
"Is that so?" I question, clearing my throat and brushing my hair out of my face. "Who's your favorite? I know it can be hard to choose--"
"Colleen Hoover, as of now," he tilted his head with a smug smile that read 'I researched this just for you, and now I finally have my moment to use it.'
"Ah," I nodded. "Excuse me a moment."
With that, I stood, gathered my things, tucked my wallet under my arm, and left right in his view.
