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Who, who, who?
They walked hand in hand along the boulevard
he knew she wanted to tell him something, he could feel the the news was bad
they stopped and she looked into his eyes, on tip-toes she kissed his lips
his heart was thumping, here it comes, this is it, he held her so tight it hurt to his fingertips
she said she'd met someone else whom she liked very much
it was time for them to part ways but they would always keep in touch
he wished he could stop his hands from shaking, his heart was breaking in two
breathing was difficult, choking on each word, he asked who, who, who?
it was hard to tell him, because he knew him well, betrayal he would endure too
so, she just said, he's a little older but really just like you, and I love him, I do
she kissed him again, and walked on ahead, whilst he felt glued to the spot,
then he watched as she got into a big, black car, further down the parking lot
at first he couldn't believe his eyes, as she bent over to kiss a guy he did know
the car he had already recognised, he could hear someone screaming NOOOOOOO
it was his own voice, and he finally ran to face the one who had kissed his love in the car
the fucking bastard, the filthy, lying sneak, the rat.... the man he called Pa.
feedback van andere lezers
It's a very good way you write this,
he called pa, his father do you mean?
It's almost a cliché, this story but
many people should recognized the man's hurt feelings.
Just 1 thing killea,
put this in a story, cause it's more then poetry,
you tll something here.
Anyway, is it a story, is it a poem...
I like your style very much.
killea: tHANKS Marc, xxx j
killea: Thank you, Bh
I agree with Marc, it's almost a story. But I wouldn't change anything, it's great just the way it is...! ;)
killea: Thank you so much, Jack
I recognize the feeling ;)))
killea: Sorry to hear that Jan. thanks for the great feedback.
Heel goed het sfeerbeeld weergegeven.
Graag gelezen, groetjes.
killea: You are too generous. thanks a million
killea: Thank you, sweetheart