The Carriage

The bends of life are questions we answer–at risk.

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I hold the reins

Dark horses that neigh

A kept tale

The only

Company.

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The carriage

Used to

hold–

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Her.

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We traversed this road.

Under clouds

White.

Soft.

Cradling with their mist.

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Her hand

Soft

Yet firm.

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At dusk

My vision

Blurs.

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The bend curves

In a question mark

I’ve tried not

to answer.

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The reins sweat in my palm.

They wait.

Not knowing.

For me

To let go.

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Sadness

An unwelcome passenger

He jerks our seats

And minds.

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Hard.

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Rocky.

Bumpy.

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The carriage

Stops.

Leans forth.

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Where?

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The horse neighs.

Waits.

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For me.

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For her.

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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.