The moment the bell breaks.
That the love has grown cold.
That look upon her face was unmistakeable.
It's the one that replays in his mind as he lie awake at night.-
The one he can't wipe clean or replace with any other.
He had lied before,
But it didn't matter.
She didn't care.
She wouldn't have left him.
She hoped for future betterment and left the past behind them.
Again, and again, the facts surfaced. Had a way of digging out of the
Grave in which he buried them.
And this time, he knew it was different.
Something had changed.
For this time,
He hurt her more than she loved him,
Which was more than he knew.
More than she could bear.
He pretended as if he didn't care.
And he soldiered on. He hit rebound after rebound,
Because the three pointer didn't go in.
But there was no glory in a rebound.
There was no achievement.
Nothing to remember later on.
He just remembered how he missed the one he wanted.
How he should have paused before he shot to take better aim.
"That look upon her face was unmistakeable." mistakable is a difficult word to spell, I had to go look it up. There is no 'e' in the middle.
"It's the one that replays in his mind as he lie awake at night.-" Okay so the difference between 'lays' and 'lies' confuses me, but I know you should be using the singular version of the verb, so 'lie' should be replaced with 'lays' i think, or maybe 'lies'... meh
I liked your poem. Although it lacked a certain lyrical quality I usually enjoy, it concerned extremely interesting and painful emotions, and did a good job explaining them. It was both a good storytelling poem and a sort of philosophical statement about the nature of loving and hurting.