I want to be a balloon
tethered to your hand
so my thoughts can soar
through the clouds
when your head’s buried
in the sand.
If you swear
you’re sure to get caught
The trainwreck I wanted to be passenger on.
From the beginning I was never content
to simply burn at the platform.
Just to witness first-hand that beautiful crash;
a symphony of thunderous metal,
buckling into a death as still as rust.
She said she liked blood.
It made me sick.
Though not as sick as she made me.
One day I’ll tell the tale.
When I’ve the stomach for it.