Unthinkable.

What you have heard is true. I was there. I drank the tea she brought out. I sat on the sofa that lay across the fireplace. They welcomed me with open arms; first with the tea, then with the comfort, and now with the unholy truth. Their daughter died years ago. It was from some tragedy that took place outside her bedroom window. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of their young girl; years before the accident. She was gorgeous, magnificent, really, to say the least. She had eyes of deep blue and golden lockets of hair that enveloped around her shoulders almost perfectly. And her smile was warm, welcoming, vibrant…lovely. I almost wished I could have been as beautiful…but then, at least I had found a way out of my misery without doing the unthinkable. And yet, I felt ashamed.

March 30, 2006

© C. Leslie.

Sidenote: This was an imitation I did of a poem for my English 201 class. It was imitated after Carolyn Forche's The Colonel.