Clean Break Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Seven cars sat parked by the woods
Three souped up motor bikes,
The night like an oil slick

I remember the dance hall music rocking and rolling
The diaphanous lights in the trees
The way your jaw grew tight
When I said it was over

‘But I love you, ’ you begged
As if that somehow made things right

I broke your heart
And it didn’t hurt one bit

You, with the ring in your hand
Your dark hair greased in a flick

Who’d have thought you’d snivel and cry?
Well truth’s best told.
No point in dragging things out
Clean break
Goodbye