your sweetheart

"stop taking me for granted," she pleaded. He took the keys out of his pocket and started to count them, one... two... three....
a key for every second, a key for every woman he had ever given his hands to. "you make it easy.. you let me take you for granted", he responded. Of course that is what he would say, that is the same line he used on the very same type of women he would allow in and out of his life for seconds at a time. He rotated them like a rotisserie chicken, round, and round and round. He was right, there was a reason these women were all the same. He choose them that way, weak, dependent, and all of them worshiped the very ground he would spit on. "well not anymore", she said sternly almost as though she believed herself the second the words came out of her mouth. Today when he calls she doesn't answer but she paces her yard back and forth thinking of reasons to return his call. "I just want to make sure you're doing fine", she thought. "No that is trite", she said to herself. Everything is trite pretending to be insanely happy, pretending she no longer loved him and forcing her mouth to say "I don't want you anymore, but hope you're doing mighty well", she thought. All of these things were not true and she was never known to be a liar, at least not for anything as significant as love. Instead of returning his call she listened to the message he left trying to see if there was weakness in his voice, he sounded happy, but trying to flaunt his happiness to her something she felt was the darkest sin of all. Why flaunt your happiness to the unhappy, that's pure evil, she thought. "Oh but my sweet ... happiness is contagious".