[our love is a 4am car ride]
behind tempered glass there is only
us shielded, tinted, safe and
contained
windows reflect us- ghosts- against the world as it
speeds by too fast to be noticed, eyes too unfocused to
care.
black leather fire against our skin
rain pelts against us, twenty miles too far over the radar
inside this vessel of space, never stagnant, belonging
nowhere
resides only the ghosts of our
reflections, refractions of who
we’re meant to be
those backscattered creatures looking back at us aren’t defined
they blur and move in unpredictable ways, some days i can’t tell them
apart. some days they don’t look how i remember them at all.
a single hand on the wheel veers into your
eyes, wide and shakily with black lines
reapplied
you don’t notice, neither do i.
how many times have those people in the
mirror bled into one another?