Smoke hangs above
The
Stormy ocean
Of
Blankets.
She
Takes a sultry drag
Of
The cigarette
That
Rests between
Her
Crimson lips.
A
Weak glow
Of
Fresh morning
Sun bleeds into
The
Shadowed room
Still red
From
Its birth out
Of
Night’s womb.
A
Silent figure
Slides a gentle hand
Across her hair,
And
Stares out from
His
Solid mind.
His eyes,
Deep blue windows
Into that mind.
The silence
Of
This familiar scene
Reminds her
Of
His words
Last night.
So cerebral,
Yet
So vacant.
He rises up from
The
Cold cotton blend
That
Hides the past
And
Walks across the room
In seconds
That
Seemed like
Centuries
To her.
His
Hand reaches
Out
And opens the door,
The door
That
Was thought
To hide them,
With out a sound.
No signal.
No good bye.
When
Her hiding place
To
The world is
Restored;
She breaks down.
Screaming,
Crying,
Into dawns lighted
Highway.
Her single word,
Why?,
Steps into the breeze
And shatters
Like glass on
The
False foundation that
It was real.
A
Distant telephone rings,
And
Through bloody eyes
She
Tries, in vain,
To
Mask her
Shaking,
Vulnerable
Voice.
The plastic receiver turns
To
Ice in her hand,
On the other end,
A
Quiet ‘Hello’.
It’s him.
She can’t speak,
There’s too much
That needs
To
Be said,
But
There’s too many
Words missing,
Too many words
Already proven wrong.
Her heart,
Bruised and broken,
Torn and ripped out,
Bleeding for all
Of
Eternity.
Too many times,
Has
She become a joke.
Too many times,
Has she let herself
Be played.
She sinks into
The
Stormy ocean
Of
Blankets,
And find a single note,
‘Hello’.
She doesn’t feel
Cold,
Bruised,
Broken,
Or
Used with
Every word
He says.
After years
Of
Hollow love
And
Candied truths,
She
Finally found
Another worthy
Of
A second chance.

 
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