The rug has been pulled again.
Fate gave a sneak peek:
He. Didn't. Get it.
I knew it when he kept the gig moneys.
When he continued to blame.
The lack of humility, the anger.
The failure to acknowledge his part.
His face betrayed him that morning.
running home to assume a strange, incongruous voice.
God, you are sick.
What a dark, lonely, hopeless road.
My heart aches.
I'm so sorry.
Our season is over.
I call an end to our Love.
This heart is tired and weary.
In your state, you may bleed it dry,
choke out its rhythm,
squeeze away the life.
I must reclaim my heart
here and now.
Our contract will end overnight.
In the quiet stillness,
the transaction shall occur.
With ginger touch, you hand over my Heart;
with careful tenderness, I give back yours.
We will wake in a stream of Sunlight
on new Paths
with separate Destinies
and I will wish you well
and hold you in the Light