She walks to the outside of the house, looking into all the green. Her body collapses as she heaves into sharp sobs.

This isn’t how her life was to play out. This isn’t where she was meant to be.

She walks out among the legions of flowers, her hands caressing the tops.

She always thinks of him when she is out there.

That one night, long ago, when they talked until the dawn as she nestled into the shadows of the scents.

Simple talk of likes, dreams, and could-have and should-have-beens.

Years later, she’s still in the same hole.

Nobody wants to hear the excuses, especially when nothing has been done to change the circumstances.

She breathes deep and gasps again. The tears course freely.
She buckles over, wrapping her arms into herself.

It’s such a deep, dark, black hole.

She inhales the scent of the flowers.

The sweet smell suckles her pain.


One thought on “Suckle

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