She stopped at every corner waiting for a crash,
she turned away the maybe in hopes of a second chance,
along came these faces, these places and so and so's,
but she passed them and graced them with only goodbyes.
A quick turn, a hand flick a quick stolen gaze,
then back to the road that was littered with haze.
She knew there was something along its terrain
that made her keep going, keep pacing, keep licking the stain
that the heart left behind when it bounced just for her.
Now it is limp and it crawls and it snarls at the ones that come near.
Still it beats, slow murmur of suggestion,
that there's something waiting, its not just a question.
Willed to continued, willed against defeat,
the mess that she can't see still beats.
No longer a ghost as proximity heats up,
but the road is rocks and pieces and disrupt.

That was a rough edge,
sharp but slick,
inviting me to cut up and open
so inviting,
to let things run out.
cleansing?
emptying?
We will never know because there's no trace now.
Just something hollow, an echo
dragged across the streets of my mind;
you pulling me there without touching.
Was the sound of your smile I think
luring me,
essentializing my peril till it seemed like the only choice,
my sacrifice to you.
No one understands the jumps I made,
no one but the edge;
but that's our secret now.