curiosity killed the cat

Curiosity killed the cat.

Reading your story,
a confession of your past,
was supposed to make me know you better.

My curiosity got me to dig in deeper.
to think,
to imagine
of how you got to this point.

you never denied that she had been an impact.
you told me that you did not love her.
why did my mind tell me otherwise?

I kept on asking.
you did not give me an answer I wanted.
You just said you did not know whether you loved her.

If you did not love her,
she would not be able to destroy you -
almost causd you your life.
love could blind a person;
and you could be one.

I wanted to keep on reading your story,
I did not tell you how sad I was
to read how you interacted with all these girls you described.
I just wanted to feel like I was part of your life,
your story.

but curiosity got to me.
I even doubted your love to me.
I was again confused;
uncertain whether your strong emotion to that girl was similar to mine.

I knew I would not have an answer
until I asked.

maybe I would just hide this feeling
deep inside along with the cat...

the cat that curiosity killed,
which was me.

Reviews

[Laughing-Bear]

My Dear Writing Friend,
The thought that pierced my contemplation was a woman’s intuition is a very powerful tool that is rarely wrong. An excellent poem with a unique ending that I found riveting even though it greatly saddened me.

Blessings, Laughing-Bear