Sometimes
She felt his skull could crack under the passion in her fingertips
And wouldn't that be beautiful
To end here, in the immediacy of desire
And wouldn't that be kinder?
Than the drawing out of this pain of inevitability
The guttural ache
Before the final crack
The splintering, not of bone
But of two hearts
Prised apart by the fingernails of realisation
That their shattered fragments can never make each other whole.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
Sometimes
She felt his skull could crack under the passion in her fingertips
And wouldn't that be beautiful
To end here, in the immediacy of desire
And wouldn't that be kinder?
Than the drawing out of this pain of inevitability
The guttural ache
Before the final crack
The splintering, not of bone
But of two hearts
Prised apart by the fingernails of realisation
That their shattered fragments can never make each other whole.
