Relationships

The only time I ever felt safe with you

was when we'd drive in your car.

Riding shotgun beside you 

made us equal.

 

Right then our lives would seem all the more real,

moving in time with us like the stuffed, stringed Chinese puppet 

I wished your rear-view mirror had

in your otherwise clean, empty car.

A submission to fate and pure chance 

in a fifteen-minute journey to nowhere.

 

A part of me often wished we would crash.

 

I could have stayed in that moment then,

Instead of being haunted by history now.

 

I've learned safety is really just a matter of how much of yourself you trust.

You know, to not mess up. To have made the right choices.

 

I start to question if I ever did.

I wonder if things would have turned out differently

if Life never put you and I in the same room.

 

Now, driving scares me more than you'll ever know.