Wordle #189


She kicks at the air,
her shoes falling
to the ceiling below.
Her beautiful,
upside down smile
tears at the edges.
She thinks of him
while she drinks
her morning tea.

She can sense his pain.
She lets the tentacles
of his unresolved grief
coil around heart until
she is blood-drowning.

She thinks of him
while screaming
face down in her pillow.
She can sense his lust.
She offers her body,
a velvet wrapped engine.
He opens her like a gift
and when he has had his fun
he leaves her unattended.

Night after night
they lie together
in separate rooms
eating of each other’s wounds.

She fills her pockets
with scurrying Gods
and yesterday’s myths.
She is star-bright
and withershins.
She can sense his thirst.
She lets him drink
from her crooked roots.
He drinks from her
until she is dry and cracking.

She thinks of him
while standing untouched
in a perfectly green circle
at the grocery store checkout.
She can sense his hunger.
She lets him eat
from her heart.
He eats her raw.
He swallows her
without tasting.

She thinks of him
as she ties pastel feathers
to the bushes
in her metastasizing garden.
She is accessible.
He procrastinates.
She abstains.
He bedevils her.

(based on something I watched/listened to recently. Still reads WIP to me)