His breath smelled of death,
like stale coffee and broken promises.
Rheumy, contagious eyes,
luring wounded hearts into his lair.
He opened his mouth to form words
backed by bitter resentment and hollow praise.
His cadence spoken in conjunction
with the beat of her wounded soul.
Don’t fall Prey, woman, don’t fall prey.
Universe whispered gently to her.
Don’t follow the road map he has provided.
It leads you to a dead end,
a dried up reservoir of life.
365 Days of Gratitude 