Twice ShyA Poem by felionessAn uncomfortable telephone conversation.He called and had nothing to say. I waited, emptiness ticking in seconds.
In the near silence of the airwaves, I heard a distant buzzing not unlike the drone of smoke-calmed bees being hoodwinked out of honey.
So I cleared my throat ... and heard in-drawn breath compress in mid-gasp ... then utter silence.
Still I waited for his response and as I sat on the other end of the phone a memory surfaced of the many times my daddy brought me with him to the bee yard. He'd never wear protective clothing yet always made sure I did. daddy would say "I never get stung...at least not by a bee!" Then we'd both laugh knowing what a sharp a tongue mama had!
As much as bees fascinated me, I was spellbound by daddy's voluble soliloquies rumbling along in his soothing baritone while lecturing on the finer aspects of apiculture with me at his side safely cocooned in my apiary spaces suit hanging on to his every word.
On the distant end of the receiver I heard him clear his throat.
I simply could not stand it any longer ...
"What?" I rasped in a stinging tone.
(I am after all, my mother's daughter)
"I'm sorry."
"Me too," I answered.
Seconds slow to minutes and in the silence of those minutes naked imageries and damp betrayals undulated in injurious waves ...
I could hear his breath, ragged and wretched.
My silence was a knife...and I knew it.
When my churning guts roiled into a fury scaring me with its ferocity, I hung-up. Once stung, twice shy. © 2014 felionessFeatured Review
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Added on April 5, 2014Last Updated on June 5, 2014 Tags: betrayal, infidelity, lost love, bees, getting stung, narritive, conversation AuthorfelionessSaskatchewan, CanadaAboutI live in Saskatchewan, Canada. I am a daydreamer who lives to write. I live quietly sharing my home with two dogs and three cats. more..Writing
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