The Scream

The Scream

The Stone was smooth, and cool.
Her fingertips caressed it,
Her hands enclosed it,
in the palm of her hand.

Passed from hand to hand-
reason for commentary
During ackward silences, and the silent scream:
She wanted to go home.

His fingers traced her's softly.


She had left him the stone,
in the palm of his hand.

She slept that weekend.
She didn't answer the phone.


She should have kept the stone
It was hard and perfect
in the palm of her hand.