sayonara heart strings
experimental flash fiction
I could feel the end of it before I could taste our first kiss. I heard it, as familiar as the latch of the screen door. Knew it as surely as I know the sound of a pump action .22. I could almost run my fingers through it just as soon as it was too late to return. I think you knew it too. But you were so earnest in your want. So dedicated to your need.
And now you'll ask me how I knew. What I knew. And when it became too much to bear. But you know the only answer punctuates all of your explanations. Those that all begin with a statement of fact - that you are a simple man. Unworldly. Inexperienced. And worse for the wear of it.
But your hands on my waist tell a different tale. Beg for a different ending and I am too willing to play into it. Into this charade. This dance. The cut of the blade. Because my wants are strung and caught deep in the need of it. The desire to feel - almost anything. Everything. The sticky sting. The urgent bleed dripping along the sweet chords of sayonara heart strings.
About the Creator
Haze Medley
Haze Medley is an artist/illustrator/designer-poet from Nashville, Tennessee, where she lives with her husband, Mark, and her penguin, Laramae.
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