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This is one of my older pieces, inspired by the book cover of "Eclipse". Happy birthday, j!The Ribbon
Slipping from their loving fingers,
The ribbon fell slowly, twisting and flaring in the air,
Writhing like something fighting to live.
Its satin edge caught the fading light
And then crumpled to the floor, a pool of red.
In hands that loved too much, it had been pulled to an extreme.
Anxiously they grasped, unable to share, unable to wholly win.
Their knots, manipulation and tugs had taken their toll.
The ribbon had ripped from the strain,
Bleeding silken threads.
Seeing what they had done, the hands surrendered their hold,
Neither wanting to make the final tear.
The perforation was nearly complete.
Only a few scarlet fibers remained, keeping the fighting ends together.
But soon they too would give way
To the inevitable slicing.
It was only a matter of time.