Her

This week we had to write a piece about someone we knew, using the contrast of poetic and realistic. I came up with the following

Her
By Samuel M. Curd


She was the late-night phonecalls
And the days spent wondering
She was the endless waiting
The self-doubt and the feeling of skin on skin
She was the swollen heart and the endless tears
The inspiration and the lurking shadow
She was the bedtime companion, the reassurance
And the grey clouds on the horizon

And now she's shacked up with some prick in Baisingstoke