there’s an acknowledgement,
i guess,
in the silence.
we don’t let our lips
pull apart.
just a moment,
filled with the
heaving
of our breaths.
i don’t really feel guilty
in taking what i want.
you broke me,
now:
you’re the one crawling on your knees,
begging for my hands
my lips
my heat
my body.
synapses fired
and i had you where i
wanted.
you must think me a fool
a little bird craving
freedom from the cage of
singledom.
it was pity, wasn’t it?
but see, the brokenness of me
in the aftermath of your
abandonment
was not of love.
not of romantic affection.
no. worse,
my confidence fell apart,
the pride i felt in myself was lost
but only for a moment.
you here,
right now,
oh, god does it burn –
the fire in my veins
the curses on my tongue –
i flick my hair over
my right shoulder.
your eyes linger on my mouth
i smile.
you think its surrender
it’s not.
taking a sip of the red wine you ordered for me,
i lean close,
your eyes widen with anticipation,
you lean just so,
i break the silence:
“Good luck”.
– this is what it means to be the black widow, i guess.
✨ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓵𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪 ✨ 