Acrylic | Snag Waiting
Acrylic | Snag Waiting | Frances Brown
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He hesitates, sighs, his gaze
falls on the doorknob’s smooth surface
polished by rivers of fingertips.
She is waiting.
His heart drums staccato beats —
crescendo, allegro, ears throbbing.
A dry swallow.
She is waiting.
It never changes, it never will.
The crisp white of his coat
offers no hope.
She is waiting.
Desperate, even as the cool metal steals
warmth from his hand.
Desperate, even as the cruel cells steal
life from her body.
She is waiting.
Nothing left but a click, turn,
displaced air,
and her expectant inhalation.