He'd seen it coming <br />for so many months. <br />Things had not been <br />conducive to <br />communication. <br />A normal life - <br />he had misplaced <br />the meaning <br />of it. <br /> <br />Yet, the effect had been <br />as if a bomb <br />had dropped into <br />his lap, <br />put him to sleep <br />and, with a Bang <br />did celebrate <br />her victory. <br /> <br />He'd been <br />so angry then <br />and it was easy picking <br />for the two of them, <br />the shyster and <br />his hurt <br />accomplice. <br /> <br />He'd given up <br />on worldly goods, <br />when, on that day, <br />the scaffolding <br />erected by <br />the many weeks <br />of counselling <br />had fallen into <br />a heap <br />of rubble. <br /> <br />She was the one <br />they'd called emotional, <br />made up of histrionics <br />and hysterical hormonals, <br />yet, when at last <br />he searched the ruins, <br />painstakingly, <br />there were no trinkets. <br />Just the fragrance <br />of the perfume <br />Moisson.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breakup-and-harvest/
