He smoothed the sharp edges of her heart

Reshaping her body with hands

Reshaping her mind with his words

Reshaping her organs with his love

She wasn’t merely letting him have her heart

He was bending and contorting himself,

Becoming her heart

It’s impossible not to argue with Alecia. That girl crawls under my skin like fire ants. She smiles are as cold as February’s snow, but her words are hot, sharp and biting as those insects now under my skin.

I flick on the radio, and my fingers tap to the beat on my wheel. My head bobs as I belt out the chorus. My feet press the petal as I race along the melody, creating distance from my disasters and letting the music muffle out the waiting consequences.

She bottled up her dreams. Figuring she’d take them out later and sip on them like a fine wine, getting drunk on hope and passion. She’d waited too long. Her life and her dreams turned as sour and sharp as vinegar on the tongue.