Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Too Much

It's a sunset after a thunderstorm and I can't help but stare at the veins in your hands. On my way home I think about the driveway where your car sits and the gravel that cradles your tires while they're worn and tired from the 80 mile drive. I clutch the wheel at ten and two and look at how white my knuckles are. You are so pale. 

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

What you Want

It's a lie, about the long stretches of nothing suffocating me, when I say that I'm feeling suffocated, I really mean the hours of silence calm me. The quiet hum of my engine soothes my concerns about destination.