By Rebecca Hersh
Serve me up another shot of bitterness
she said, still smoking, her eyes watching nothing.
Let me look again at what hes stolen.
I told her to move on, that shed had enough tonight.
But she held out her last dollar.
Serve me up another shot of bitterness.
I served her, I didnt have the strength to fight.
He had done her wrong so wrongly, made her so angry she couldnt
Its been years, but still shes seething.
Counting all the evidence,
a lawyer proving hes a bastard.
I watch her, drunk again on her misery.
And when I tell her to go home, its a pink skied dawn.
She shoots me a look and tells me he doesnt deserve to be defended.
But with all her crazy searching,
she cant seem to see,
that as long as she hates him, and refuses to forgive,
he will claim a part of her.
Which is, perhaps, what he wanted all along.
But still she sings her song as I lock up for the night.
Let me relive it again, let me remember, I want to to dial the number,
want to hear his voice.
(The one she keeps telling me she hates.)
Rebecca Hersh is a 10th grader at Eastern Christian
High School. She lives in Ringwood, N.J. with her mother and step father
and spends time in New York with her dad. She enjoying writing and hopes
one day to be a journalist.