Fiction writing exercise from my A Cup of Words Writer's Group. Monday, July 21, 2008.
Prompt is The Lyric:
“You sang me Spanish lullabies, the sweetest sadness in your eyes, clever trick.”
The sunlight sliced through your hair, picking up strands of red, blonde and brown and combed through them like a lover’s fingers might do. I sat, watching as you spoke, the rich, amber timbre in your voice soaking into my consciousness. You talked and I watched your mouth move, the way you gnawed on your bottom lip, your nervous fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. I wanted to take your hand, and press it to my lips. I wanted to pull your head to my shoulder and rock you silently.
And you knew. Practiced in the art of pulling heartstrings, you measured each word, each breath, each flicker of your eyes toward my face. How you ever packed so much tension into that spot just below your bottom lip, I may never fully understand. But you drew me in, and I loved you. I did. My heart broke for you. I believed you.
I was foolish.
I fell, headlong into your eyes, into your stories, your arms, your beautiful perfectly orchestrated lies. And now I sit, in that same, empty window seat, sunlight raking through my hair, scattering across the floor in pieces, as I try to gather the bits of my heart. And still those lovely Spanish lullabies echo in my head, and I am not sorry. To have held you and loved you, and known you, was well worth the price of admission.