He knows she is slipping away.
The pauses are longer, the messages shorter.
He can feel the cooling of her heart in the May breeze that brushes his face. He can see the waning of her desire in the shrinking moon. He can sense the lack of her attention in his empty dreams.
He will never be a victim.
Undercover of darkness he builds a boat from his words.
At dawn launches it upon the still and waiting, inky waters.
He does not look back.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photo stolen from zZToraZz