(iii of swords)
always sharp & bright at the start.
kisses in the dark. holding hands
& creating sweet endearments.
then the insecurity &
the jealousy. he acts like he
doesn’t care. she just gets wasted.
he’s a taut grey cat. all claws &
hisses when she cuddles up next
to him. he turns away in bed.
he puts pillows over his head
when she says his name once again
sooo softly & when she wakes he’s
gone like a sad song that she once
loved but now she just hates it. hates it.
© polly macdavid