The movies. They lie to you, you know.
What did I expect when I told you I loved you?
An orchestral wall of crescendoing violins,
a soft-lit montage of moonlight and summer,
a falling of the curtain as the story folds gently away,
a standing ovation from the gods?
Or that other answer.
Tragedy and desperation, sobbing in the rain,
thunder, lightening, darkness?
No, when I told you that I loved you
there was awkward silence, chewed tongues
mumbled retraction and fumbled reconciliation
and beans on toast for tea.