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The Perfect Poem(Dreamer1031 Picture Challenge)

Short story By: Mistress of Word Play
Thrillers



Charity was unhappy with her life. She had it all, but felt she had given up too much all for the sake of love. This is her story....


Submitted:Nov 18, 2009    Reads: 214    Comments: 24    Likes: 35   


Flying

Charity Blake sat in the mansion taking one last look around. She and her husband of five years had it all. They had the big house, the fancy cars, and money to burn. Any other woman would have been happy with what life had thrown their way if they were her, but Charity was far from happy. She had for several months been taking stock of what was really important to her and nothing here was on her list. She found herself drifting back to when she first met her husband Brian Blake and for a moment a smile radiated from her soft red lips. Those days had been magic or at least she thought they were. Perhaps she had been wrong to fall in love with him. She should have really paid more attention to that inner voice which had said, "Caution! Beware!"

She had put on the little black dress that Brian had bought her to wear that evening. He had also presented her with a huge diamond pendant which she wore around her slender neck. It would have been a wonderful gesture had he bought the gifts for her, but he had done it so she would look fantastic for the opening of their new business venture.

It seemed all Brian cared for these days was showing off his lovely wife and all his other possessions.

"You look great!" he had exclaimed, "Just the right image I want people to take note of."

"Is that all you care about Brian?"she asked him feeling the tears start in her eyes.

"We have to portray a certain image, now don't we?" he asked rather flippantly.

Charity had sighed and nodded her head in an affirmative matter. Things were not as they had been when they first found each other. It hurt. Charity could still feel how he had led her to the dance floor in the nightclub. How his arms had encircled her waist and heart. The kiss came later as they danced and she knew he was the one she could love forever. They had married and moved into the huge grotesque mansion, the two of them now called home. Charity did not feel it was her home. Over the years most of the furnishings had been selected by a designer. The clothes she wore were hand selected by Brian. She had no say on where they ate or where they went. This house had become her prison and she hated it and yes she hated him.

She collected her purse and headed for the door. There were things she wanted and if he would not give them to her she would find them elsewhere. She walked to her black BMW and climbed inside. I hate this car as well she told herself. I just don't understand how he could do this to me. Charity when Brian met her was an aspiring writer. She had published several articles in magazines and the literary world had proclaimed she was one of the best writers of the decade. She had discarded her career and dreams, because it just didn't fit her husband's mold of what he wanted her to be.

She drove to a marketplace not to far from their house and walked in her black dress and heels among the people who were there looking for some treasure to collect and take home with them. She found a flower stand that had the most exquisite roses. How she loved the fragrance of the flowers. The sheer beauty they projected was heavenly. In her younger days before meeting Brian she would take a bouquet of the delicate flowers to a cliff overlooking the river and spend hours scattering the rose petals to the wind. A silly whim touched her brain and she purchased a dozen of the red roses. She walked a ghost among the living. No one approached her or spoke to her. She could feel the people watching her and wondering what someone like her was doing here, dressed as she was. Charity became self conscious and opted to leave. She had a date with destiny.

It took the better part of an hour for Charity to arrive at her destination. She pulled her car off the roadway and walked the short distance to the overlook. The wind caught tendrils of her short black hair and whipped them about her heart-shaped face. She had taken the time to leave the note for him. It was the last thing she would ever write. She smiled and hoped he liked it. Charity had forgotten how beautiful it was here in the fresh air watching the river as it ran so swiftly and beautifully below. As ifnone of the sadness had ever occurred she began peeling the petals from the roses and tossing them into the air. She watched as the wind caught them and like little red birds they floated freely in the breeze.

Brian found the note on the front entry hall table where his wife had left it. The note read as follows:

Would you kiss my cold dead lips
or feel my life force as it slips
swiftly in the river?
Would you cry a tear or maybe two
for the woman you loved so long, so true?
the one who could deliver.

Pray tell me now I would like to know
how you can say I did offend you so?
I cannot read your mind.
How someone can love you so long and deep
can hold someone and all the while keep
from seeking what you find?

Would you remember me forever?
Would each moment we spent be a treasure?
Pray tell me love how deep and wide?
Would you hang your head in disgrace
if you could not gaze upon my face?
Can you push all those feelings aside?

Do you in reality actually care
that your actions might cause me despair?
Please tell me I want to know.
Would you kiss my cold dead lips
or feel my life force as it slips
lost in the river's flow?

"What the hell?" he asked the empty house.

A groan escaped him as the realization hit him of what she had written. This certainly was not going to look good, he thought to himself as he picked up the phone to call the authorities.




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