April 21, 2014
“Your heart is beating really fast,” she whispered to him, fear backing every word.
His lips that twisted and tongue that tricked her performed those evil kisses,
Each kiss was draped in a blinding black lace of hope and inadvisable blisses.
He hummed a tune, and she wordlessly hoped that playing with his fingers wasn’t misconstrued.
Then he grabbed her hand so fervently
So deliberately, the action sent a chill down her back,
Quickly, herheartbeat began to tick, a clock wound up,
And without a sound, she curled into his black shirt,
Unaware of the fate of suffering for which she was bound.
Deceived ears yearned for fiction once the truth was revealed
It was her heart that was beating so with such speed, not his.
For so many years she had guarded her heart, and kept is sealed
Yet he was tearing down the dam she had created, she was letting him, with that kiss
Affirming any authenticity
felt like fooling herself into believing
the transaction was something more than a neutral give-and-take.
Both parties benefitted.
That was clear,
One more than the other, which might be a option for another rendezvous,
but the tangible difference between love and sex was rampantly racing through her thoughts, confusing her, and she could feel him slipping through her fingers as she said goodbye.
Lauren Dixon 