The Tangled Web We Weave
He never listened. Oh, he heard, but was incapable of listening to her.
In the beginning she loved his intelligence and sweetness. There was something deliciously romantic about his thoughtful gestures. He cast a spell on her, capturing her in his jeweled web. Making sure she was good and stuck in place. She could neither come nor go. The quirkiness of his personality once refreshing and keeping her always on her toes, now suffocating. Trapped by his weirdness that quickly lost its appeal. Squeezing the breath from her lungs and energy from her body.
What she mistakenly took for romance was actually a predator luring his prey. Now his web constricts and chokes her until she is no more. To her, death is quite romantic. She speaks no more but he didn’t listen to her anyway. If he couldn’t have her, then nobody would.
Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved Bjorn is hosting Prosery Monday at D’Verse. He has prompted us with a line from Bob Dylan’s Desolation Row to be included in our piece of flash fiction to be no more than 144 words. ”To her, death is quite romantic”