Trust Me

 

“Don’t forget” she remarked quietly.

“I won’t” he replied somewhat stoically.

“You will” she mumbles to the floor.

“I won’t, trust me” he lies to her face.

 

Dressed she sits, patiently, ankles crossed.

Hands folded into her lap.

Clocks tic, tic, tic mimics the beating of her heart.

Breathing in and out, refusing to glance at her watch.

 

Collapsing into herself she reclines into the sofa.

Eyes cannot avoid the face of grandfather clock.

She kicks off her heels and runs a hand across her swollen ankles.

Tears stream from red puffy eyes, dripping into puddles on silk sheath.

 

Clothing returned to closet, she pulls warm flannel from the drawer.

Slips between cold cotton sheets, pulls her knees to her chest.

The door opens slowly; bare feet glide across the wooden floor.

She squeezes hers eyes closed and slows her breathing once again.

(c)VictoriaRamsey@2016

 

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