Running Shoes by Amber Decker

He lifts his head from the pillow to look at me.
“I love…” His hesitation
is the flight path of a bat
flinging itself through sideways beams of light.
“Your tits,” he finishes, and slides
his hand over my skin
to cup my breast.
I roll my eyes. “How romantic.”
He shakes his head.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I say, “I know.”
His finger trails across my lips,
sews them shut
with the soft needle of touch.
Across the room, the TV mumbles,
its light glancing off
the empty bottle
of whiskey, the glass doors
of his gun case. In the corner,
the dog stirs, and the night carries on,
wild as the coyotes loping
through fields in the dark
outside these walls.
I reach for my shoes
at the side of the bed, knowing
there is a storm coming
over the mountain tonight.
But you can’t outrun the rain.
He pulls me back down, begs “Stay,”
like an incantation spoken over the flame
of a black candle.
And you should never run
from what holds you
in its sights.
So I stay.



Amber Decker is a thirty-something poet and musician from West Virginia. She is a lover of comic books, horror culture, good wine, tattoos, and rock and roll. Her latest collection of poems, The Girl Who Left You, is available from California’s notorious Six Ft. Swells Press.


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