MAGPIE TALES: You Would or You Wood

Your half-clasped hand looks so harmless now, its blow released and quickly becoming an ashy memory.
It's hard to believe how different we were when it all began. Your freshly sanded face held such promise, the springs in your legs never creaking. We felt such synchronicity and complementary hues.
I trusted you without question as I grabbed your hand, ready to be led on an unknown path that I felt confident offered unlimited adventure and compassionate companionship.
How soon we found ourselves in the red room, where the taunting led to pushing, the doubts and dread mounted to be confirmed by your splintering words and creaking drama.
And it ends here, on the dark, lonely street of departure. Your final blow released without regret.

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