I watched in bewilderment as her ice cream date turned into a cascade of public shame.
Her scoops of anticipation,
melted into shrieks and tears.
I could taste her hot tears from across the room;
Tears hotter than the slap she had received,
Tears salty enough to change the flavors of her ice cream.
Her crème de la crème of a gentleman
was proudly humiliating her; in public.
I saw the regret in her eyes.
Everything she overlooked during the “talking stage”,
had come back to haunt her. What she saw before, she is getting now.
She was reaping the harvest of love's disdain. Nothing changed.
Red flags ignored; flavors lost.
PS: At this point I can only beg the likes of her;
to not turn the already meaningless “talking stage”
into a fruitless theatrical experience.
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