Words have always been my everything: my passion; my weapon; my craft; my comfort; my drug. How appropriate that they would also be my downfall.
You won my heart with words. You told me you love me; you told me I was beautiful; you told me I was smart; you told me I was strong. You told me all the things I hadn’t been hearing. Oh, the things you said to me! You made me swoon, and you made me blush. I loved the part where you said you were having a bad day and seeing a picture of my “beautiful eyes” would make it all better. That one was a good one, and it wasn’t even one of your best.
Then you broke my heart with words, or, rather, a sudden lack of them.
Hey, smooth talker, cat got your tongue? Why so silent, all of a sudden?
I thought that I had gone from punching bag to punchline. You know: “did you hear the one where Alice falls for the oldest trick in the book?” I thought that I had lost. But dear, it is you that has lost. What you got from me was what I was willing to give you: one night. What you take from me is bragging rights. You seduced a woman eight years your junior, and she was hot – no, really, you have pictures to prove it – and she had a British accent that you loved to listen to, and it was so easy: she fell for all your lies, ate them right out of your hand.
Well, dear, if you want to feel proud of yourself for tricking someone when they were vulnerable, you go ahead. Add it to your list of achievements. Laugh, all the while not knowing that the joke is on you.
True, I mistook something disgusting and cheap for love. But I gained from it. I gained a lesson; I gained thick skin; and from the heartbreak, my novel gained 39,112 words (so far). Your words may have been lies, smooth talker, but they were still good ones. You will read them again, someday, when a character in my book says them and means them. I will hear them again, no doubt, and next time around I will know whether or not they are true.
It is you that has lost, because I have gained all of these things, and all you gained is that one night with me.
It is you that has lost, because those eyes you claimed to love aren’t going to cry another tear over you.
It is you that has lost, because when she breaks your heart again, you won’t be welcome in mine.
You put in all that effort. You carefully constructed all of those words. You whispered so many sweet nothings, and you got one night for all your trouble?
You are the punchline.
All the best, smooth talker. Thank you for the words.