In the first few weeks after I met you,
you formed the habit of placing your hand
on the back of my neck
while I drove.
I thought it cute.
You were addictive
in your senseless charm
and I was a careless heart,
struggling to keep time
with the beat.
Decidedly, the tempo increased
and the knuckles scraped
a tap-dance slide
across concave cheekbones,
stark and thinned
by my hungering smile.
I thought to terminate the dance.
I thought to notify you of my intentions.
I thought to step back from passions raised
and push my narrow chin in the air,
to settle my shoulders back
and stiff as rigor mortis
my words would fall
and in their strength
would not break as they hit the ground.
Instead, you showed me the weakness of my spine
and your hand on my neck
tightened its grip
and my words fell hollow in the squeeze.
I watched them shatter,
as only sparkling good intentions can do.
© Laura A. Lord, 2016
Sometimes thoughts drift to darker times. Regardless, I am thankful to MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie for their wordle prompt this week.
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Photography by Jairo Alzate, Unsplash