It started with a glance.
An innocuous chanced glance.
Fate is a cruel mistress,
I was just the mistress.
I'm not proud of the fact.
I don't take pride in being your "bit on the side"
Part of me died when you told me you were married.
But, I couldn't stop being with you, that is,
until the glance.
Ever had the feeling that someone is watching you?
Well, I did, and I looked up.
There she was.
The wife.
I felt the colour drain from the room.
I wanted to run, but Karma had plans.
How alike we were, hair, build, our humour
the only difference were our eyes.
Mine, blue, hers brown.
That's how it happened.
A chance glance at a coffee shop.
We chatted, it would seem we both knew of each other.
I didn't know of the pregnancy.
You should have told me.
But then you knew I'd leave.
Mistress to a married man I can live with.
Mistress to a family man? No.
Even a mistress has some standards.
Over coffee and cake we conspired to rid ourselves of you.
The cake was the key.
And they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.
Anti-freeze or Ethylene Glycol poisoning was chosen.
Embittering agent was nullified by the sweet frosting.
Our combined bitterness made fantastic cakes.
Acute kidney failure in 72 hrs, and, well you were told to stop drinking.
The only questions I really wanted to ask you were,
Do you remember who served you?
Were her eyes brown or blue.
© JLB
02/03/2015
11:08 GMT