Fate Lines

A Poem by In Fair Verona

A poem

Your hands cup mine
as you trace the fate lines on my palm,
laughing as you read me my future.
You don't forget to put yourself in it,
with a quick glance upward,
your irresistable grin spreading
across your face, and then you pull me towards you.

You promised me everything that day.

I remember it while you sit at the desk in my room,
your nails taptaptapping my goddamn desk
so hard, so fast, filled with all your anger
so hard I think that its surface will crack.
I whisper I'm sorry, you yell I don't mean it,
but I do, I do.
You've never acted like this before. What happened?

Only a few weeks before you told me
that there was no future for me
without you in it. And I believed you.
Did you mean it?

It doesn't seem like it now.
My desk sits motionless while your nails tap away at its surface.
I stand motionless while your words cut away at my core.

And now there's small cracks spreading,
tiny holes, valleys, ridges, breaks, in that core,
lines spreading across the surface, filled with hurt.
Just like fate lines.