AMBULANCE

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Ambulance by dardenitaaa

When the urgencies of my drive-by evenings
slices through the frail skin of roads
and my eyes bleed into a blur,
I let go of the wheel
towards somewhere solemn spaces dance
as I quiver in the refuge of my
windshield sorrows,
trembling at my own forgetfulness.
Because the world only stops when I remember.
And i can’t.

Everything always ends halfway.
In that middle street where I can’t see
where I started and where I would end—
Everything is a hanging bridge I’m too afraid to cross.
Because the strings always betrayed me
will always betray me

Still, the rearview mirror breaks
each time the dawn finds it way on my radio.
And I let my sadness drive.
I let my sadness drive.

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One response »

  1. Sometimes, sadness does us good. As for me, I have written my most prized pieces during those times. But I learned one thing, though. And it’s not to indulge too much in it. It’s dangerous.

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