Baylee

Settling

It is always the broken streets

that lead to your open arms

Always the uneven cracks of the pavement

which seem to me like

individual beats of your heart

 

As I drive this windy road

not slowing at the bends or turns;

It is only towards you I race

and only away do I drive slowly

 

As the further and further we are apart

my heartstrings seem to stretch as rubber bands

tied to your fingertips and arteries

leading to your heart

 

I'm sure you feel it too,

the stretching and tearing

which leads to the rivers

running rapid down your cheeks

 

I promised, my love, I would not forget you

but already the dust is settling

on the feeling of your cheek in my palm

on you green eyes and dilated pupils

and your smile,

which, it seems,

only I could place on your lips.

 



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