Poem: “Learning to Forget.”


 

(www.pixebay.com) Goodbye Kiss
 
Time to forget the colour of your eyes. Blue and wide, deep as any blue one can fathom, with laugh lines beginning to crinkle.

Time to forget your voice and any connection we had as we spoke. It’s a long time since I saw you. We haven’t talked in years, but I remember the teasing tone of your voice. 

A flutter in my heart. A feeling of anxiety. The way you stared at me as if you were pulling me a part trying to find in me, what you wanted to see.

Time to forgive what was never done and never said. You don’t think of me, so why should I think of you. Time to forgive an apology you never gave. 

And if I’m honest there was and is a smoothness to you I am afraid of finding still. Never trust a smooth talker, you don’t know what hides behind the layers of conversation.

If I’m to forget, I must forget your lips. A wide full set of lips and a hand gently stroking my back. If I’m wise, I’ll remember not one single bit.

For I was a girl then and now I am a women. Time to move on as you have moved on.Time to forget. But first loves pierce a hole through your heart and it’s hard to forget and forgive.

When you’re permanently scarred and the path you chose then still leads into the now. It’s difficult to not remember, and not be jealous of her.I always wanted your happiness and in the end, that is my end.

Years will pass by. I’ll pray for you still. Out of habit I think. And the piece of me you stole at such a young age remains half-healed. A wound that won’t repair until I see eternity and understand everything. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

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Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers: A Mural for Lola


 George stared up at the ugly green water tower. He was a wiley guy for the age of seventy-six and truth be told, he hated the colour of  the water tower. George rolled his eyes at people who called the water tower festive at Christmas and said: “like hell it’s a festive colour,” to anyone who would listen.

One day George talked with his bestfriend Andy and they decided to paint the water tower. Andy was a gifted artist and George had tenacity. They got the permanents needed from the Mayor’s office. Then they hired some boys to paint the tower with white primer. When it was dry, George and Andy went up and painted the lines in for the mural in black.

Some of the people in town were furious when they saw the design. Elma (who wasn’t much for change) and her half of the town council thought the water tower should be green. What George and Andy were painting was an abomination forcing religion on people. Elma filed a petition to stop the painting.

Meanwhile, Andy found every available artist of all ages who could volunteer and they began to paint the mural with colour. When the day came to reveal the mural the entire town stared in awe at the beautiful Nativity that was painted around their water tower. 

Elma still insisted it be painted over back to green, but her appeal was denied and she passed away the next day a bitter women of sixty-eight. George and Andy were proud of what they had turned the water tower into. 

Late that night, George looked at a picture at his bedside table of a luscious brunette in a bikini in the 1960’s. She had been his wife Lola. It was for her he had undertook the plan of painting the water tower. Lola had loved the Nativity story and Christmas. 
 

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting and Sonya of Only 100 Words for providing the prompt picture.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.