By Megs
Date: 19 July 1999

Last Evening

It hasn't yet been twenty four hours.
The memory remains strong enough that it is her only concious thought.
She feels nausea, but since yesterday she has only eaten
twelve pieces of carmel popcorn and each kernel choked past
the lump in her throat.

The magical togetherness potential of an evening
(last evening)
dies with his harsh words or unspoken disapproval
but she is too stubborn to admit it.

She felt ugly that evening
(last evening)
at the bar.  She had tried to dress up 
To compare with the fantastic blondes 
the overwhelming cleavage
the defined abs
and felt like a child
playing dress up
with lipstick smeared all over her face
and heels to tall to walk in.

She wanted him to want her
She wanted everyone to want her so he could see.
That doesn't explain why she pulled away from him
last evening.

She needs him- at least half the time.
Begs him for a commitment he brushes aside
She pushes him away- the rest of the time
Because she would rather deny herself than be rejected.
Both halves make her feel lousy.

He had yelled...had screamed that night.
Over harmless flirtation and her insecurities
and over a marriage proposal she hadn't meant to let slip by
But that had penetrated the drunken haze.
So thundering
The echoes of his obscenities had followed her to the door
Even though he had dropped her off in the driveway
without walking her in.
They greeted her in the morning
and blocked the sunlight.
The tight grip he had had on her arm had left its bruises
Only on her heart.

These were not the most painful things about that evening
(last evening)
Most painful was the premonition that maybe last evening
would be the last evening
and the fact that although he held her and her tears washed his shoulder,
He never cried.