Selfish Jean

I told her it wasn't so. I went on and on about how wrong she is, and how much I love her, scheming my way through her accusations. My cold muscles did not give me away. Nor did my half closed eyes. Oh, but the human mind works in mysterious ways. She did not give in. Not at all. I only made it worse. I started breeding irritation in her. A long growing distance is what I saw in her eyes then. Oh, her eyes, twitching, burning, a shell for her hate, almost bursting, almost, almost...Oh no! No. I was wrong. It was nothing like that. It was about her. She was always paranoid, afraid that something will go wrong. Being almost sure that everything would go down in flames. Again and again I had to go to great lengths to calm her down. Nothing would sooth her. Not even a touch of praising. She had to burn her ashes. On and on. Burning ashes burnt hundreds of times before. It was about her and her fireplace, with her chimney that usually led the way for a jasmine aroma towards me. Harsh was the smoke sometimes. Harsh as wood and no coating worked. Hmm, if I remember correctly, I faltered. With my rolling eyes and my rolling tongue, with my sharp words that stabbed the jasmine flower, on and on. But I did not see any blood running, thus thinking my blade was blunt. Not so. Not at all. She maybe thought I had a thirst for blood. No one tells the executioner that his hatchet does not cut as it used to. In my own case, I was not aware that I was sharpening it.

It was nothing like that. I must admit. My words are false. the truth is I make her happy and that is what she should remember. There is no sigh.