Hannah’s crinkled glance cut me
with accusations plagued by assumptions.
She held a small box in her fist.
She folded her arms across her heart
and shifted her weight to her back foot,
quaking the ground beneath my trembling knees.
I slumped before her, asking
for forgiveness for what?
I knew not.
I saw myself in the reflection of her tears.
She’s sharpened her overacting skills.
The mess I made in heaven had flooded
the mistakes I made.
In retrospect, I made a retroactive apology
for an unattainable analogy.
Hannah shouted through thrashing fists.
“Why didn’t you ask sooner?”
“Is that a yes?”
Hannah blew out her anger to a burst of deep laughter,
and her eyes sparkled. “I thought you’d never ask.” Hannah dropped her gaze to the ring that I placed on her finger.
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