Party Is Such Sweet Sorrow Poem by Denis Martindale

She was at the party and all smiles as I entered the living room. That was until she recognised me. Her face froze with the memories of why I had chosen to leave her and to focus on my career instead.

Her eyes seemed to have glazed up. Her jaw had dropped slightly and seemed set in solid concrete. She had a look of disgust which then transformed into the awareness that she might have to speak to me later. Knowing her as I did, her mind was buzzing with suitable believable excuses.

Until I could see her leaving, I knew she was capable of anything, and I gulped at the thought of the damage she could do in such civilised company. To avoid a really bad situation, I slowly turned around and walked away as gently as I could. I still remember the hairs on the back of my neck alerting me to speed things up. I felt her icy stare as if it were a snake around my throat.

I made my way to my car and got inside. Suddenly I looked up and there she was at the window and her icy stare was like they say about holding a grudge, if looks could kill. Within seconds, I was well away from her, but I still dream of her now and then, and let's just agree to say, it doesn't end well and it ain't pretty.


Denis Martindale, for the 2nd of May 2024.