Slipknot

Thin line catching

Her throat white and long

Lips permeating the air with cold sound

He leans in, away
Taunt on his own ropes
Murmurs of dreams like snow melting

Nowhere near
Only worlds apart
Still gripping, both might laugh or cry

Just a cord of discontent hanging
Tying knots as remembrances
Dangling in lonely trees, in heart.

By Norman R. Barton