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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1779781
A once married man reminisces about the wife who left him for her one true love.
I remember the way Eve's blond locks curled about, twisting this way and that like strands of entangled ivy. I remember her lips, coated lavishly in ruby red, her hunter green eyes gleaming. My heart nearly dropped out of my chest as I slipped that sacred ring onto her slender finger. I knew right then and there that she was the one, and wrapped my hand around hers tight as we left the chapel--man and wife.

I notice the rain creeping down the window, creating vines along the glass. Her charming young suitor took over her mind, her body, and her thoughts. The storm outside cries out in despair as the monstrous thunder howls with delight. Her eyes, I could tell by her eyes. Their hunter green morphed into a glossy emerald, always smirking at me but refusing to look up. She was happier upon returning from their secretive visits, and I was drowning, choked by her love. So I let go of her.

I step outside into the pulsating rain that soaks through my clothes and seeps into my skin. Even in the midst of a deafening storm, the ivy continues to climb higher, a mass of green contrasting with the blood red bricks of this home we once shared. I run my fingers along its veins, trying to free myself, but all I can see is their flesh intertwined, their hands interlocked, hearts pounding together to the same rhythmic beat.

Now I sit in that green suede chair of hers, the one planted in the middle of an empty living room. I wonder where she is, if she ran away from this place, from her roots, to be with her budding truelove. Outside the grey sky weaves its way into night, into luminous stars that spiral out in all directions. The ivy in the planter box creeps in through the open window. Yet no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to get rid of it.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1779781-Ivy