From your softly spoken words
I thought...
How can this feel, this wrong.
Knowing what was to become of us as we drove
Towards no where. Purposely making wrong turns.
unknown, destinations already forgotten.
At the moment I didnt care, but then again
I wasnt supposed to cry neither. I blame the hormones
hovering in the space around our mouths and noses.
Had to shield away from
your eyes...
Standing in the middle of the street.
Naked, waiting for useless comfort
that I didnt receive
I was relieved.
That I had night to cover my fright
I discover that
no one could see outside our eyes.
If we just close them. And turn away.
If anything that hurted more than the softly
spoken lie or truth?