11:49pm, 19 june 2018.
driving down the road,
and your hand is gripping mine,
thumb running across mine -
EDEN playing for you, baby,
because you like that song
that mention gold on the streets,
something about the American dream.
and i watched cars drive the opposite way
towards us on the other side of the road,
going so fast, paying no mind to the speed limit signs.
i kept thinking of how easy it would be -
just veer into one,
just veer, just step on it -
you said not a whole lot scares you,
you've been up at gunpoint, baby,
but still the way i drive
with a twang of a death wish,
scares you even more.
YOU ARE READING
do you think he sees me as just a pretty face?
Poetrysad sap space babe poetry, 2017-2018 'cause writing it out is medicinal. do you think all he sees is a pretty face, or is that too conceited of me to say? at this point maybe that's the best that it gets.
