Spell-Bound
A heart-to-heart in ropes
Do you believe in love at first sight? he asks, sliding a blind for her eyes.
Is it still called falling if you’re caught before you hit the ground? she responds, tightly trapped in his tentacles.
Then he turns her, heels over her head in a heartbeat, to place a hand on her throat. Let me take your breath away!
You may already have, she ponders, painfully aware of her pounding heart, sleeveless and exposed.
To start, she got down on two knees, took her life into her hands, placed them in his. He accepted. Tied the knot.
Now, she’s all hung up, joined at the hip, as he tugs at her strings and snickers: Tough love!
All is fair, I suppose… she grins, tightening the twist ‘round her finger.
Their journey hits rough patches, uncovering their soft spots. His fibers hug hers; tight, as she flies; fancy, under his wings. Over both their heads.
At last, they arrive at the end of his rope and he lets her down, easy, to land in his lap. Welcome back to earth!
She’s still in the clouds, with stars in her eyes. I think you just hung the moon!
This heart-to-heart—conversation in ropes—is a play on idioms and a small declaration of love for…
