It Happens in a Moment

It happens in a moment. A prick of a thorn. A drop of blood on your finger. A crack in the dyke holding back your heart.

A moment you look at the rose, already wilting. Remember what you were running from.

A moment you squeeze the wound with your thumb, look about the empty apartment, not yet rented, and wonder what the hell you are doing there.

A moment you wake. When this pinch of pain, barely throbbing, slaps you in the face.

A moment you wrap your finger in newspaper, a half-hearted effort to staunch the torrent coming from somewhere else.

A moment you let yourself think of her, the one you left behind, and know.

It happens in a moment.

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