Coup de Grâce

“Being inside you is like having a million conversations that bring us closer together.” I swear that line will make him famous one day, but the solace found within can never surmount. Intimacy connects what the mind rejects, but the heart knows. . . Like holding the word love, intangibility can be questioned, but why bother? If the power of existence lies in speech, then I hum the malady of love’s merciless stroke. The contours of my body innately ache of pain and malice colored black and blue. With wide eyes shut I clasp my hands as tears trickle down my blood stained cheeks. On bended knee I choke on stifled air. Lipstick smeared and blouse undone I struggle to feet whose soles bleed deep red. With calculated steps I take my leave. “Hold your horses” he barks. With a devilish grin he hands me my purse and pitches the key to my little red corvette. At the threshold of dignity I fetch my things and slam the car door shut. Through my rear view mirror i look innocence in the face and promise that this is the last time, but teary eyed she stares back with her all knowing glare. This is only the beginning. Contemplating my next move I can’t help but think of an intimate conversation once shared between myself and a now distant lover. In bed one night he whispered while he thought I slept “Being inside you is like having a million conversations that bring us closer together.” "What does holding me feel like?" I questioned. Kissing my forehead, he answered “like holding the word love.” I then smiled and said "I swear that line will make you famous one day."