The Quiet after the Storm

--

She stood there, watching as he left,

her breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps.

Why was she watching him leave in the first place?

The mere sight of him made her sick to her stomach.

He only resembled bad memories now.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the spot on the tiled floor

where he had previously been.

As she thought of him, her skin crawled

as if spiders were upon her.

She could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

It was actually the only thing she could hear

besides re-runs in her mind of what they had both said to each other.

There was a hardened feeling near her heart,

like an unpleasant and uncomfortable lump.

She could feel the pit of her stomach boiling

as if it were a volcano.

An unwelcome, metallic taste in her mouth

wouldn’t cease to subsist.

It was then that she realized

her hands were clenched into fists.

When she released her cramped hands,

she could feel the sweat on her palms.

Not caring, she wiped it on her jeans.

Her face felt as if it were on fire.

Her entire body felt flushed.

But all she had been doing was standing there

for, as it seemed, hours.

In reality, it had been mere minutes.

A loud whistling sounded.

Her gaze turned slightly.

A metal teapot stared back at her,

steam billowing out of its spout vigorously.

She could see her disheveled reflection in the metal.

Her hair was awry,

her clothing askew,

but she didn’t care.

After taking on last look at where he had been standing,

and another at herself,

she left the room.

The trudging of her feet could be heard all the way down the hall.

And then a door slammed.

--

A/N: This was a poem I wrote a few years ago. I hope you enjoyed it! I would be thrilled if you told me so in a review! I love recieving them and love reading them even more! Thanks!