Sunday Drama

Here is a piece I wrote over two years ago. 

I wake up on Sunday morning, a perfect day has begun. It’s beautiful really; all that’s left is attention from my man. So I cleverly devise a classic old plan. I will go to his place unannounced; I bet he’ll be charmed. So I get there to his house, sneak through the gate.I don’t need to knock; I got my own key, ooh I can’t wait. I let myself in, walk to his room, but what I see in there was never in my plan I guess I should have listened when mama told me to never surprise a man. She sits there with a smirk on her face, he stands there with panic or is that guilt? The pounding in my ears cannot cover the sound of my heart being ripped by love’s claws. It’s an understatement calling this an awkward situation. Anger, hurt, pain, surprise. is there a word that contains all these emotions in english diction. My head is woozy and my heart is heavy. I try to talk to him but she keeps barging in (Let me at her, now I’m crazy!) I take off my earrings, ala there will be blood. He comes between us and suddenly I have a flashback. Moments come back, events I filed away. Like when he was supposed to meet me and I would wait all day. Or when I found those texts in his phone and when I asked, his reply was “Do you really think you’re alone?” Or when he would jeer at me and make nasty jokes. In front of me and in front of his blokes. I probably should have left when I got my first slap. But I had believed them when they told me it was a perseverance club. And he would bring flowers and say he was sorry. And that the only reason he hit me was because I had made him angry. She’s standing there, the smirk is still on her face. I stop and step back. Tears are falling, I don’t bother to wipe them. I let out something between a sob and a chuckle, turn to the girl and retort; “You can have him girl, A man who treats his woman with anything less than respect aint worth fighting for. And honestly, he aint a man at all!”

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