Following my heart, I wait for the
sweet sound of shattering glass
Pieces of ruby gleam on the hard
wood floor. He plucks out a tune on
his guitar and the notes enter me.
I panic as he crawls across the floor eating
parts of my heart. I crumble, emotionally spent.
Rhone's resolve is to be admired. He reaches
out to me, cradles me in his arms. I feel the
slant of his smile in my hair.
I am not a victim of love. Shattering to pieces is
an art form I've perfected at a very young age.