The words over at Three Word Wednesday at bicker, nervous and trajectory. Something short, bittersweet.
Hallmark’s Got a Card for Everything
It’s like a nervous tic between us, like picking at cuticles until they bleed. And they always bleed.
We notch slings on archer’s bows, aim for the heart, but fail to let go the string at the last minute.
Until last night, when I let an arrow – all this pent-up sorrow – go.
A trajectory for your heart. Pierced, shot clean through. My wince at your pain, the burning of tears that cascade down your flushed cheeks.
The couch is cool and uncomfortable, penitence for my sins.
But your silence. The roar of your nothingness trembles across my eardrums, makes me nauseous, listening to my own blood course through veins, capillaries.
Just give me the chance to explain.