His kisses shuffle like
clumsy hands on a deck of cards, playing 52-card pick-up with the pieces of my heart. He was not the king. I was unimportant, not a face card; insignificant and low in value. To him I was never an ace or queen-- perhaps a 3 of spades-- playing into his straight jacket of illusion.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorThis blog reflects the author's original works and musings unless otherwise noted. No part of this website may be reproduced or distributed without permission unless directly linked to this website and credit to the author is given. Archives
January 2022
Categories |