A lump in her throat
she walked through space and time, a single flame of love. She was undone without his passion, and some part of her anger blazed like hot lightning. The first time he'd told her the song, it had been his love poem to her.
Jane couldn't remember if they'd ever been through a time together when they hadn't offered each other their love. He'd written the lyrics on the eve of their first time together when they'd each been uncertain if they really meant anything to the other.
After that night, they'd offered each other their passion.
At least a dozen times he'd sung the words to her, and every time, without fail
Jane's heart swelled like her ribcage burned.
YOU ARE READING
End of Rush Anthology
PoetryHave you ever felt so distracted by work that you had no time to enjoy your life? You've found that every day is a blur of deadlines and stress. Every evening you come home exhausted and ready to collapse, but still have to suffer through more work...
