Doomed

She’s heard that people

Hold hands like they

            Hold hearts.

She holds his hand and feels it

Grasp just a little too

Loose—

Slipping

Slipping

            Slipping already.

And the way he laughs, now—

Now when he should be laughing            true,

He’s

Laughing blue

And looking at her as though

She holds his fate

On a string

Tied around her

Sweaty

Nervous

            Hands.

And she

Wants to let go but

Her ring is

Caught

            In a tear of his sleeve.

 

Such an unlucky prophesy.