WHAT A LAUGH

WHAT A LAUGH

by Robin Shwedo

©: Robin Shwedo, 1996



What a laugh.

We’ve broken up,

come apart,

and yet

there you stand in my living room.

I’m not sure what,

exactly,

you wanted.

Do you know?

Maybe to see how I was doing,

or to make sure you’d made the right choice.

You spotted what I’d written

in the days and weeks before the break,

when I knew it was inevitable,

but not knowing exactly when.

“You’re bitter,” you stated,

“and the rest is wrong.”

No, I was not the one who was wrong,

or bitter,

just trying to survive a broken heart.

I was doing better

before I saw you,

and yet,

there you stand in my living room.

I give you the cold shoulder,

keeping my wary distance;

no, not bitter,

but afraid that any closeness or emotion

will open up the hope,

the caring,

only to be crushed

when you walk out the door.

So,

I’ll keep my distance,

put up the walls,

and if that makes me a bitter bitch,

so be it.

I call it survival.

What a laugh.

This is part of my collection titled Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares.