Your Poetry Dot Com - Driving Home

At dusk I am in the passenger seat of your car
And you lean against the door, light a cigarette.
The sun is orange, slipping
And it must be in your eyes.
Will you stay?
Will I stay?
Will we not fall apart like sheathes of wet paper
Will we not come apart like everything else?
You move in the summer air
And I breathe in as you exhale,
Perfect against a concrete landscape,
Perfect against a dusty sky.
You are in my veins,
Better than any drug.
You are in my mind, my nervous mind,
Comforting it out of its coma.
You flow through me lighter than gravity
But I can’t hold on tight enough
And I’m scared that you will slip.
I am not whole but I hope some day to be;
You help fill up the cracks in my soul.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ skinny-little-punk