Last night, I drove 9.2 miles. One way.
I found the fastest route and navigated through the usual traffic.
The usual. Lies.
Trafficked on dark, back roads that wind like serpentine smiles and stretch like the long black roads that live inside your eyes.
Last night, I drove 9.2 miles. One way. To hear you contradict yourself and laugh away my confusion with love on your lips.
The night was cool, and your breath was warm, but still the chill persisted.
And yet I closed my eyes and prayed to taste a drop of spring’s dew on your tongue.
Your lies taste bitter.
Last night, I drove 9.2 miles.
The trip feels longer when your heart is heavy.