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Amye Barrese

of

Scranton, PA, US

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Mercy

by

Amye Barrese

She slapped his hand as it touched her face
He called her Mercy..
She called him Father...
Her eyes turned to grey as he whispered in her ear.
She felt his breath on her neck,
his lust on her lips,
she shuttered and pushed him away.
He slapped her and grabbed her skirt.
"We are all immoral.." he whispered.
She thought immortal.
Mercy clung to her skirt as to keep it around her knees..
He clung to her soul as to keep it around his neck..
The hostess glanced at her with confusion
as Mercy clutched at her dinner knife with contemplation.
His hand on her knee was getting closer...his breath getting hotter..
Her grasp grew tighter...the knife more inviting..
As he lifted her skirt, she lifted her knife
Stabbing her pain in the chest..
Over and over...over and over...
Blood...pain...shame...guilt..
All dead with the stab of a soul...
Mercy felt his warm blood running down her legs...
"Mercy," his voice whispered, "were you dreaming about me?"
Mercy took a sip of her wine and swallowed.
His hand still on her knee.

Passion on the Rocks

by

Amye Barrese

And as they sat her screams
wandered to his fists
like the bad wine that was
poured in the drain with the
leftover dishwater.
The night before,
she had loved him.
laid him down and showed him...
Now he ate in his misery
the eggs she cooked and served him.
with the wine of last night still on his lips
the smell still on his clothes...
Tommorrow it would end.
This existance that she had
prayed to know,
would end.
Once he made love to her
and whispered marraige in her ear.
Now she had become his crutch.
The weathered piece of steel that held him up.
And once when they ate
in the restaurant in the next town,
she put down her fork
as he spoke her name...
"Rose.." he began.
She loved the sound of her name on his lips.
Then there was the Ballet.
He watched in wonder
as she performed for him.
That's when he approached her,
and her dignity became her past.
Now she was his beautiful enemy.
The one he had learned to live without.
She was an imposter,
she felt as if she had interrupted him..
in the middle of life...
Tommorrow it will end
she reminded herself.
She put the gun away,
and began scrubbing the kitchen floor.
Until tommorrow...
She smiled.