I could die here. In the nostalgia of the fall.
The cool breeze of an Ohio night and your Eyes. Glossed and terrifying.
I watch the breeze as it catches your hair. You turn your eyes away and bring them meticulously back to meet the force of my drunkened gaze.
"I know this isn't real, " you say and you light a Marlboro light. I laugh at it all and lean back onto the warm hood of your car. I'm broken and I'm scared and it all seems real when your three sheets to the wind and on a maniac high.
But I'm looking at you in the Ohio breeze and your mouth is hungry and your eyes are tired.
The better part of me stops. It's a quiet night and I listen to the sounds. Just your ragged breath and the wind.
I pop a Sam Adams and hand it to you. It's losing the crisp coolness in the two hour drive.
A midway mark for the pinnacles of our mistakes.
I know this is wrong. I'm looking at you and I'm telling myself to turn away. But I'm running tonight and you were willing to meet me in the sprint.
I take a step back.
And I listen to the sounds of the night
I like that you giggle as I drift away and your calm southern drawl is soothing and sweet against my ear.
"The children of the night..." you say as you take a drink. I'm pouring crown into a Styrofoam cup and I'm chasing this Canadian bullshit with a flat diet coke.
But it's liquid courage as I switch off my phone and look up at you. With your pinned out eyes and your drunken laugh.
I want to fuck you now. Here on the hood of this dusty SUV on a backroad in nowhere Ohio. I want to throw you down onto the clay mud and treat you like a whore. But I slide next to you instead and I take your drink from your hand and swallow hard.
It's easy to fall into the maze of your words but you're quiet now. Still and confused.
You're looking at me with "save me" eyes and I'm debating how to save myself as I light a smoke.
It's natural here. Like this with you. I think and I pass you the pipe with an absent mind.
You smile and your lips find mine and I want to fight it all.
But I'm on a roll this week and the fuck ups keep coming and so I let myself drink you in.
It's after three and this hotel room is closing in. Your presence is crowding. Smothering. Choking me as I load a bowl.
I'm watching you in the other room. You're tying off and your eyes are intense and in lust or lov
and I find myself wishing you could look at me the way you're looking down.
You're smacking your vein and prepping and I want to crawl away.
The smell of guilt and weed and sex.
Overwhelmed I close the door.
There is no turning back, I think. I'm falling to my knees now. Blaming alcohol and speed and fear.
That's it, isn't it? the fear.
I'm frightened of myself, I'm frightened of love.
I'm frightened to fail and you'll never let me down.
"Hold me, baby. Please? " it's a whisper now and I know the fade has settled in.
I know I shouldn't. But I run my fingers through your hair and you reach for me and
we both seem to need the comfort of it all.
For tonight I'm your god damn white knight baby
and we're only children in the night.
So I rest my chin against your head and nestle into my chest. I hear your breath quicken and then Slow into a quiet, peaceful rythem.
It's easy here. With you. The only surprises are the one's you expect
You aren't asking questions. You needed fix and a safe place to rest
And needed the stability of the chaos of you
Resting safely in my arms