LOVE IS WHY I CAN NO LONGER EAT BLUEBERRY MUFFINS

Image by  QUIXOTE.tv.zazzle.com

He was my last Valentine.

I told him, I have one relationship

- one last stab at hope –

left in me,

and I don’t have ten more years 

to heal another broken heart.

He nodded.

But he was sly.

He knew all the words,

and I never played "the game".

Later, it was revealed

he had two others on the string,

“keeping his options open”,

while he plied me with

sweet promises of forever,

leading me past the point 

of healthy, instinctive fear.

I fell like a lemming off a cliff,

like a horse heading for the barn,

like a freight train to nowhere.

When he told me oh, so sorry,
he was "confused",
he "needed time" 
(to try out the other two)

he said he’d miss 
my blueberry muffins.

Would you believe I made him 
one last batch,

before I left his house that midnight

and drove the long road home?

Yes, of course you will totally believe it.

I got my revenge, though.

No, no poison in the muffins.

I lived on and got to be me.

He still had to remain himself:

a befuddled Quixote,

tilting his misguided lance

at all the pretty ladies.

LOL. For Rommy's prompt at Real Toads: Love Hurts.