last words

i can’t drive the back roads anymore

because every time i do

i’ll pass where you last were

and i can’t stand it anymore.

maybe before i left this place

and realized there was another world outside of here

i could stomach the twists and turns.

i could lean into the curves of the road

and fly past you

like you were never even here.

now i can only see

the street lights illuminating

this place that tore us apart.

it ripped you and me

from the fabric of the earth,

lifted us off the ground

and left us to break our own fall.

so we both stood up stunned from the impact—

broken bones and blood dripping down skin.

we both walked away

until your injuries caused you to collapse.

you laid on the ground

back where you started

and let the cracks in the pavement

swallow what was left of you.

so now i’m left stumbling past the ground that took you away.

i can taste the blood in my mouth

and feel the way my bones bend

in ways they were never meant to.

i don’t know how to walk away from a crime scene like that;

it feels like i called an ambulance

and ran away

to protect myself.

but the sirens pulled up

far too late to save you.