Happy Ending – Marta Ruf

There was no story of the girl that met a boy

My name is Marta Ruf and I’m a 19 years old student from Poland. I’m currently studying first year Philosophy and Psychology at the University of Glasgow.

Happy Ending

He wanted to scream; 

his pale lips sewed shut 

when he whispered the prayers to the God 

he rejected; 

He wanted to beg on his knees, 

blood staining the floor 

with the ugly memories of the sins 

that he never committed;

He wanted to take the loaded gun

and point it towards his brain, wishing

that the dirty hole inside his skull 

will make up for all the flowers 

he took from her garden this summer.

He took her hand and kissed away

promises, leaving them in the morning 

in the pile of the crumbled clothes; 

he had never seen how many of them mixed gently 

with shredded parts of her crumbled heart.

There was no story of the girl that met a boy, 

no golden days and heated nights;

there was no happy ending; 

He felt the cold metal tightening around his neck, bones 

cracking like a broken match when she looked at him 

with the eyes similar 

to the morning sky; 

he never cared to see the deep blue hiding 

underneath the lashes until he made them crush, 

like a broken sky, 

spilling the rain on the saint’s cheeks. 

‘Please’, he cried, his voice breaking; hot blood 

boiling underneath his skin with the weight of all lies 

that he fed her on the dinner dates; 

the bitter memories of the heavy cross 

on which she laid when he left her house,

still made his skin crawl

like the poisonous snakes. 

His kind that finally betrayed him.

‘No’, she answered gently, kissing him 

with the promises that he never kept; feeding him 

with the truth that he never granted. 

Her voice 

was the story of the boy that met the girl, 

of the golden days and heated nights.

Of the happy ending that he will never know. 

Marta Ruf

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