- car rides and the bruised balm of the setting seventh day of dawn a question that's more a caress than anything that comes before she asks me what is it like to be this achingly young? i have; my heart at my feet and a need to be undone. do you posess it? a longing for something that ends with you in a grave repurposed she says no she says it does not go that way she says– but this is not that story not yet in this one the doors slam close and i exist in the year where i have never known her face in this one i bear the mosquito bites because her looking at me more than once was enough to soothe the stinging ache in this one i could stand the sight of her only in the cavalier dark, fifteen with the price of leaving but in the aging ever car rides i know the shadow of her want. fuel changes abide by laws she changes the tires with bruising hands and says do you know guilt bleeds? aching vermillion, rust tang, the sunset you made me a witness to– but no that is not right. in the world where the memory is tinged with a broken bitterness she has never held my hand without dropping it first reverent grief in my shoulders the cascading waves of drought the silence borders on unforgiveable she asks me if it was ever enough to bear and i say it was because it was you holding the knife. wasn't that enough then? can't it be enough now? she does not answer. there is a chasm of saltwater leading and the passenger seat has always been empty. i watch the sun bleed into a carcass of nothing
apr 11 2025 ∞
apr 11 2025 +