35 more miles
a word
every 5,280 feet

loaded .45 wedged
between the front seats,
a little too crowded
in a car
with one driver,
a shitload
of old ghosts
stuffed into the trunk,
and the tip of her finger
quietly tracing

wet cheeks
dusty dashboard
clenched jaw
floormat
interior light
shoulderblade
turn signal

She touches everything.

( She   t o u c h e d   everything. )

can't keep her pale
fingers from
roaming
the rise
of white knuckles
gripping the steering wheel
a little harder.
a little tighter.

3 AM

15 more miles
.45 in hand
in mouth

and he falls
past the tree line
with more certainty
in moments like these,
wanting her
to curl inside
his lap
and sleep
for a while
with the tangles
of her hair
grazing his knee.
( Just for a while. )

metal in mouth
water in hand

worlds merged into nothing
into something
into everything
he never wanted to feel
but he feels
her hands
trace his thigh
and he knows
he shouldn't
he knows he shouldn't feel
he knows he shoudn't feel
her fingers roam
the length of his skin
( he   f e l t   everything )
she was.
She was,
but she isn't
anymore.

5 more miles
into the melt
into Dawn
into the lap of
emotion biting metal
scraping gums
tasting salt
the horizon
is a bit dimmer
a bit blurrier

he can't see
he can't see
( he   s a w   everything )
she was

he can't see her outline
but feels her breath

and goddamn
just how cold can
one chill
sliding against
a damp face
be?

he cries
he cries
he wants to feel her
he wants to feel
Her.
he wants to feel
he wants to

crawl
inside her skin

melt her womb
with his touch

smear his eyes
with her blood

he wants to
he wants to
he wants to

he needs to








(     s i l e n c e.     )









Go.