A month ago, I was your accomplice, and now you ask me to remain friends. The embarrassment combs through as a wave of road rage blinds my path of rationality. My unconscious self, laced around a salted silence that locked into a sensation of nothingness. If only I had let the fresh pages narrate the secret lucid fantasies of my romanticism. Foolish promises wouldn’t cage me in a fabric story that provokes more than a beat to my heart. 

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I reminisce about the past, – One hundred and six days– 

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The moment when the spark in my eyes noticed your gaze on downtown streets. When the permanent sweet words turned to a loaded gun that got me sent back home. The tunnels of jealousy kept me under a spell and your role of stand-up guy got me starry-eyed. The plot twists wrote headlines that reframed the southern road you drove us down to. The manuscript of our conversations left an agony inside of me; all about a life so near my touch.  

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I think back to the words you said to me, – “I promise, I’m changing.”– 

Everyday I waited for you; I ended up going back to you. 

It never was a fair fight, in your book I was at fault, in mine, you were the chosen one. I tried to give it my best, but all I felt was shame. 

Criticizing my youth was the one power you held over me. 

No wonder I’m the one to pay the price; 

No girl your age would kill their pride, no dice would land on you, it would be a sacrifice for them to do. 

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Now I look back to it all, – Maybe I was far too committed, but could you blame me? 

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Was it casual when we spun the bottle knowing it was only the two of us in the room? When you asked me about the hour and minutes I took my first breath in this world? 24 hours later, and I received a birthday greeting at exactly 7:30 am. 

Was it casual then? 

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I’ve stayed up at night, – Slowly waiting for the twisted knife of reality to hit– 

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Inescapable to it all, my wishful thinking kept me captivated in streams of sadness. I kept count of, and could trace down the broken locks found within your sharp eyes. I’ve deserted my voice and don’t recognize myself. 

I met the greatest luxuries of catastrophic big cities. 

Circumstances left me wandering in raging foreign roads.