That look, the eyes
Focused, intent
Her the instrument
A concerto
She, the violin
You, the bow
The storm outside,
the orchestra.

Darkness wells
Engulfing
Muscles tense
The rage builds
A struggle for control

She is lost
The sting of the wind
Matches the crescendo building
Your hands playing her
Assaulting her body
Tears well
frustrations spent
Screaming crescendos
Still the storms rage

Through the darkness
You are there
Words settle
Eyes reach far inside
Soothing, comforting
Consoling, understanding
You rain down on her
Only to feel her slip away
Coaxing her back
Home to you
Her eyes calm
The storm has settled
Your eyes,
softened

The quiet patter of raindrops
Break the silence
She is engulfed in you
As you are her
Release

Another chapter … finished.
And peace of mind.
For those of you who *know* the verdict was … not guilty.

Sit back, matter of fact, teasing, toying, turning, chatting, charming, hissing, playing the crowd.
Play that song again, another couple Klonopin, a nod, a glance, a half-hearted bow.
Oh such grace, oh such beauty, and lipstick and callous and fishnets and malice.
Oh Darling, you’re a million ways to be cruel.
I should, I wish I could, maybe if you were, I would, a list of standard-issue regrets.
One last 80 proof, slouching in the corner booth.
Baby, it’s as good as it gets.
Oh such grace, oh such beauty. So precious, suspicious, and charming, and vicious.
Oh darling, you’re a million ways to be cruel.

.oO(I reckon this dance could be the new thang!)