A crime scene

What I want to do now

Is to kidnap you, kidnap us

From this suffocating day-to-day,

From piles of heavy weights on your shoulders,

and mine

Hopping on a convertible, your hands firm on the steering wheel

We’re driving towards the falling sky,

Meteor showers above us,

I’m in ripped jeans jacket,

Broken aviators on your nose bridge

Crooked and scattered souls we both are,

but unafraid

Your blood on my shoulders because they are shooting from behind

in front, from the left and right

“Fear not, my darling…”

I throw myself over to shield you,

“I’m not scared. I love you” – the last words uttered from my lungs

as you’re screaming

It hurts,

But you can’t hear me crying.

Tears on your shirt, I beg you not to stop.

And then come the bodies of yours and mine,

hands intertwined.

Burried deep in the woods, until one final lightning strikes

You’re my flame, for so, I have turnt into dust

We’re nothing, yet each other’s everything.

All they’re going to find is one rusted sky-blue 1957 Chevrolet Bell vintage convertible,

and charcoal remains of a love so short-lived,

That’s my dream.

Dark driving.jpg

(Picture courtesy: http://www.eastlothiancourier.com)

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