Phone cord
Across her stomach
Fingers twining
In singular desire.
Her lover hems
Her lover haws
The tighter she grip
The tighter her patience
Wanes
As he speaks
The weak excuses
Of unfaithfulness
Not tonight
Not now my dear
I can't get away
I can't see you today
She slowly
Slips the communicator
To its cradle
His voice a constant
Mockery of her indulgence
And she says
Not tonight
Not tonight
He barely hears
The disconnect
Hello
Hello
A look to the phone
and a shrug.
Not tonight will he get away
Not tongiht will she stay
The car she drives
Takes her right there
The door she knocks on
Opens to his face
Anger ensues
Fear replaces as she shows him
Her intentions
Gone
He's gone
Not tonight
Will her patience be tested
Love As A Chronicle
and a metaphor for woman feelings. Nice write ~Stella~
Violence
I was implying that she shot him! Good, you didn't read the violence I was feeling at the end! Don't want anyone to think i would resort to that...though the desire to make 'em all go away with their judgement and disinterest is there!