Francesco A Perrouna

Samenda and Carter

1: I trusted him enough to tell him that I did not trust him. He was a handsome grim reaper wedged snuggly into the corner of my back porch, his long coyote limbs outstretched and nervous as he traced the fabric of my green oval chair. Love stood between us like a dying child, too ill to bear the sight of our callow passion. It existed amongst us like a delicate fragment of truth, such that we knew not to swing its blade too heavily. This anxious angel was visibly torn, kept from his natural grace by what he assumed to be a ball and chain damning him to some deserved torment. I wanted to give him the softness he so desperately needed, but it was too quick.