Lamet

Lamet! is what she hears first him, screaming her second name as he descends upon her no time to process gravity a thud, tearing her core to shavings Maiweeeee! She is puzzled. His baritone dropping the 'n' agitation a wooden scrabble. Nothing is left between her and Pee, not a grain all’s crushed smothering their screams interlocking their groans. He is a pawn, no saphead giving it to her, a pounding her splinters putting him on like a glove a blood-wood fragments of his body all over her. She, a Mortal (he notes the ‘r’ replacement) implodes in silence, his pain. She is deep no winnowing basket Her pleas chaff going with the wind consummating with eyes but she, too dry to go gunky. Left to recline in the tree shade, heaves silent sighs among groundnut sheaves “You know I l-o-v-e you,” “Yet it spells p-a-i-n, right?” “We are just pieces of a g-a-m-e dear,” he sighs rolling onto his back.