the car starts. the image clear.
the frame intact, the rolling begins
i watch the whistling of trees pass by
too fast too slow for me to think
images fade away slowly as she accelerates
i still see you but i'm living in the fast lane,
a blurry image too distant of a memory
my heart clusters on itself as we hit the 200 mark
the pain of losing you gets greater
it becomes clearer as you fade away
you were just a memory
you were seated on the driver's seat all along
you hit the brakes hard, sending us flying through the air
a scream escapes my lungs as we tumble over and over
the car settles, the frame broken
i turn to you at my final breaths of air
but you were never there.
-b
YOU ARE READING
queued thoughts
Poetrymy lips shame of unspoken words. self-written with a sprinkle of inspiration here and there.
