a tragedy of some kind

fools and fallacies

"I remember seeing the shape of your mouth that first time, I kept staring until my blood turned to rain. Some things take root in the brain and just don't let go." ~ T.S. Eliot

I still remember,

as if it were yesterday,

the first words we ever exchanged.

I saw you watching me,

from across that quirky little bookstore.

You stared unabashedly,

no hint of propriety,

sipping your coffee.

Black.

Like always.

But of course,

I didn't know that then.

You stood dramatically,

walking towards me,

finally plopping down in the seat beside

my table.

"Tragic isn't it."

I gazed at you blankly,

giving nothing away.

Fuming beneath the surface,

at the fucking imbecile,

the one who dared interrupt me in the

thralls of my novel.

You and your gloriously mussed blond

hair,

piercing azure eyes that made me

wonder,

if you could see right into my soul,

to the darkest parts of me.

I bet you could.

You were,

in my humblest opinion.

No scratch that,

you were practically the

personification,

of darling prince fucking charming.

I always abored girls that swooned over

boys like you.

Ironic isn't it.

Considering what I became.

The epitome of everything I despised.

"Pardon?"

You smiled at me,

That handsomely crooked smile,

pointing at my book.

I remember flipping to the front cover,

fingering the title,

almost entirely faded,

disappearing behind the creases.

'Atonement'

As if I didn't already know.

What a besotted fucking idiot.

I turned to you with an overly irritated expression,

directed more so at myself than you.

Hating myself,

for being attracted to you.

It took me a moment to realise,

the implications of your words.

The way the sentence sounded,

how it rolled off your tongue.

You were genuine.

Begging belief.

You had read it.

I stared at you.

Contemplating.

Taking you in,

piece by piece.

Your patient expression,

your deliciously long fingers,

curled around your steaming cup,

longing for them to touch me.

Your perfectly shaped lips,

pale and rosy.

Oh how I had wanted to crush them,

beneath the weight of my own,

in a long passionate embrace.

I quickly interrupted,

that hazardous train of thought,

before it continued,

into dangerous waters.

Realising I had not answered,

I finally spoke up.

"No book worth reading isn't."

You stared at me for a few heartbeats,

And I remember cursing myself for

opening my bitter mouth.

"Undeniably" you whispered,

almost seductively.

No scratch that,

definitely.

That was all it took,

one little fucking word,

just one,

for me to know I was irrevocably

fucked.

Or as I thought back then,

in love.

Lies.

I still believe we were.

For a short time at the very least.

What a fool.

A complete,

an utter,

fucking fool.

Shame on you.

Fuck.

Shame on me.

-Delilah