A poem about a relationship that was doomed from the start. |
Bound to Crash by Brandon McClaskey Used to be part of my heart, turned part of my past. Should have know when your skirts shouted, “Pardon my ass.” And I had to rebuttal with, “Pardon my class.”, That you were nothing but a photocopy; carbon, of trash. Constantly accusing me of having a hard-on for cash. Well if I DO have a need for the finer things in life, this will never last. The “good days” constantly ready to break; more fragile than glass. We always knew how to remount the pieces and we did it fast. Making up was a joyride that read 180 mph on the dash. Seat belts fastened, knowing that we were bound to crash. Though, fantasies always fulfilled on a bed of C-4. We had a blast! But, sick of the battles. Tired of the war. We’re titans that will always clash. So today, I pack up my armor; plated with brass. I’ll bring you a safe. You can lock away your mask. At some point, keeping you in my life became a constant task. I’ll gladly exchange an empty passenger seat for a consistently empty flask. |