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Vicky Pointing

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Faith

Her expression is one of fierce determination,
Her stubborn gaze locked to the faces of her friends
As she sips her drink in a mockery of calm composure.
I will not watch this, she thinks,
I will not watch this.
But the alcohol and ache loosen her eyes,
And she turns to look.

They stand cruelly outlined in blood red light.
He is a six foot string of fire and flirtation,
Rosy lipped and silver tongued.
She doesn’t know the girl.
She doesn’t want to.

Her friends have seen.
They don’t understand,
And she can’t explain.
So she says nothing,
And he leaves with his prize.
In spite of herself, she begins to cry.
It’s stupid really,
This is no different to any other time,
But she’s still crying,
Rivulets of mascara stripping the powder and colour from her
                                                                                         cheeks.
All her friends can do is tell her that she deserves better.
And she knows that already.
Being told just makes her cry harder,
Her lungs tight and empty,
The air rattling through her throat.
Her breath catches and cuts,
Her stomach rising in bile to her mouth.
The thought of him with anyone else
Makes her feel physically sick.
She whimpers, bleary eyed,
And hates him for doing this to her.

But she’ll forgive him.
He’ll come back to her, and she’ll forgive him.
Because he always comes back.
And she can never resist.

 

Page(s) 89

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