I drove until the morning light
greeted my rearview,
drawing fractures of my heart
from beneath the night
where the truth left shards
of what we were,
glints of dusty rose rays
lifting the illusion of the same hue
I’d been living.
It was time to let go.
He said he loved me.
They all say that, don’t they?
Eyes flickering, alive,
and a young girl longs
to dive in head-first,
mouth-to-mouth, heart-to-heart.
Oh, that kind of passion
paints watercolour skies
vibrant crimson.
That was the night
I let my wild heart
choose for me.
Sometimes he’ll catch you
like the hero you envisioned
so you’ll be safe forevermore.
Sometimes he walks away mid-fall
letting you crash, crumpled
like you never mattered.
Yes, old love, that was the night
I learned the devastation of
leaping before you look.
You weren’t the safety net.
You were the fatal rocks
upon a deathly shoreline
And all I saw was the sunset in your eyes.
And in the silence
where cigarette smoke meets midnight
I can say that now I know
morning light in my rearview
was the tunnel’s end.
That dawn brought me
to letting go of you,
and archiving a version of me
you will never again see.
She liked red back when
it was her wedding dress
and a Cosmopolitan cocktail in her hand.
She loved spiced rum
when it was the taste on your lips.
She was brunette hippie girl
who longed for the highway.
You wouldn’t even know it now.
I see the world through
shades of lilac, blossoms
wafting that scent through my window.
I painted the bedroom the same.
There’s a whiskey girl now
sitting in a different bar Friday nights
with cherry black hair
and all the time she wants
to write poetry and mystery books
with no desire to fall in love again.
And I love her.
How could I have known
that by breaking me then
the pieces would come back
so differently?
The full, ongoing poetry book, "Blood Moon in my Rearview" can be found on Wattpad.
