We are traveling at eighty.
But it feels like so much more.
The fast car
The wind against the door
His hands grip the wheel
The wheels grind against the pavement
Swerving in and out of traffic
All I see through my blurry eyes are blobs
Of red light
They are stagnant
We are in motion
He looks over at me
For just a quick second
But I feel his eyes bore through the hollow bone and flesh
That is my body
A meek body
A weak body
"You said you wanted to go away."
"I did."
But I didn't mean it like this:
the thick air
The pursed lips
Is this what I really wanted?
The night cannot save us now
As it has saved me beforeThe mountains moveThe earth shakesBut we remain stillColdHardEmotionlessLike a barbieHe contorts my meek bodyMy weak body into the person that he wantsMe to beEven if that person isn't actually meSmile hereLaughGo to this partyDrink this wineWear this dressPut on makeupSay these thingsDisregard your identityConform to thatWho is Lorraine Sanders?I don't remember her.Is she the one with the pale face And the blonde hairWearing the cheetah coat?Is it real?I heard it's fake. I heard this life was real.I know that it's fake. I keep my head upAt the end of this month I will leaveI will leave himI will leave his corporate buddiesI will leave is overbearing motherWe slam on breaksI lurch forward AndFly back in an instantMy neck snapsThe seatbelt cuts into my skinI want to cryBut what's the point in crying When I know this isn't the endHe tells me to get out of the carAnd I can't help but almost resistWhat about the parties?The wine?The dress?The makeup? The lost identity?No matter, I follow pursuit as I always do.My heels to the pavementA long, dark road ahead of meAnd he speeds off into his nightOur beloved car now a speck of red light
YOU ARE READING
Blurry Eyes
Poetrywhat happens when you're travelling at eighty miles per hour, slightly unhappy, and your boyfriend leaves you on the side of the road? a poem about a cookie cutter couple with a problem following the speed limit.
