My hands are shaking.
//I told him it wasn't safe like I always do right before I give in
I remember his smirk, the way he ran his tongue over his lips
" What am I if not dangerous?"
I remember his hands
Damn near dragging me across the street
He kept turing around and making funny faces
He wasn't watching the road
Neither was I
We didn't see the truck.
I didn't see anything but his wicked smile and that damned tongue//
My breathing went ragged sometime ago and I can't remember when I started praying
When my hands clasped and verse spilled from my lips
The white man in the ambulance told me I should have been paying attention
As if I could have pushed the semi away from him with my hands
As if it didn't swerve 3 lanes to hit us
As if "hate crime" wasn't laying on-top of everyone's lips
My leg won't stop moving and I keep picturing the day he stared into my eyes and whispered "i'm going to be with you till I die"
It wasn't supposed to be this soon
The receptionist keeps looking at me like "get your shit together" and all at once I know he died
Because it's like my body is rebelling against its self, like I'm exploding and imploding and I'm watching myself like a sad romantic drama
Because when the doctors walk out with pity looks and apology eyes I'm not even surprised
Because what the fuck are happy endings anyways
~N
