Practice Made Perfect

He began preparing for her death years before the actual event; his shocked expression;

A hand clasped to his chest. Practiced repeatedly asking what had happened followed

By a stumbling pause. When the time came, though, he found himself genuinely grieved;

Motions more than mere pantomimes of loss. Maybe, he thought, I’d actually loved her.

Reflecting on this he realized he’d never fully appreciated her. Their home became mausoleum-like,

Every photo of her, just her, now papered the walls. His own visage cut away, often raggedly.

His guilt lurked in every corner, yet no one ever looked. Rehearsal had been his undoing.

Author: nananoyz

I'm a semi-retired crazy person with one husband and two cats.

4 thoughts on “Practice Made Perfect”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s