Come to me, he said. And she remembered how to breathe.
Come to me, he said. And she wore her heart on her sleeve.
Come to me, he said, and she heard herself answer:
Only to remember what it means to love you, and leave you, and break my own heart again?
No. Not this time.
Come to Me, she said, and he said nothing.
KDW Sept.’18
canadiansunshine 