• maespoetry 22w

    She closed the door, but it didn’t latch. Maybe, she sensed something absent. Afraid; perhaps, maybe, she was hoping he’d come back.

    She was quiet in her own barless prison; watched as parchment slipped in occasionally; time after time. Incessantly, she read the habitual and careless lines. She tossed them aside; time and time again.

    She peeked out the window. They made eye contact for a moment. She was nothing to him and he was the definition of deception.

    At last, with one last telescopic breeze upon her face, she slammed the shut. That’s when she placed a rose gold ring on the table, hit her reset button, and whispered, “Nevermore.“