slowly approaching a stop sign
to some it means to slow down
to others it means "be aware of what's around"
to me it means broken promises,
empty words,
meaningless meanings,
twisted intentions,
vacant significance.
they always said, "you stop at a stop sign."
this inanimate object
at the end of the road
it's supposed to have this strict meaning,
"stop"
but what does it all really mean
if you saw the stop sign
and thought it meant
"go"

The last day I spent with you is the ink that's splashing around in my mind, trying to make its way to parchment, though it'd much rather be the ink tattooed across your chest. The easiest confirmation of our love is the infinite complexity of each simple moment we shared. There is a memory of you burning through the walls of my mind, and the longer the fire burns, the more susceptible I am to its heat. As we walked hand in hand approaching our favorite spot by the lake, you stopped to observe a metal pole sticking up from the concrete in the ground. You were always intrigued by things I never seemed to notice. You were intrigued by the hopelessness that faded from my eyes as I looked at you, the way my hands always found themselves wrapped around your waist, and the way my eyes watered every time you said goodbye; but I never stopped to notice these apparent qualities until you spelled them out for me. I watched as you begun to push on this appendage projecting from the concrete ground, testing your strength. You pushed and pulled, excitement pumping through your veins as you began to realize how easy it was for you to pry something out of the ground. Eventually you grew bored, lost interest, and left the pole slanted, nearly parallel to the earth: not completely yanked, but pushed and pulled, stuck in a writhing position.  Since I've had the time to replay this image like the song I have on constant repeat, I realized that it spelled out exactly what you've done to my heart. My heart like this pole stuck in the ground.

While I was sitting in the passenger seat watching you drive my car, I held my breath. I was all too familiar with your sweet addiction to danger. I felt the pleasure seep through your skin as you accelerated the speed beyond the limit. I felt the waves of excitement ripple off of you with each sharp turn. Every now and again you would glance in my direction and see paralyzed fear on my face. You kept driving. You knew I trusted you. My life was completely out of my control; all my power rested within the firm grip of your hands and the smooth glide of your feet. All the direction I could ever find was within the road you mapped of me in your eyes. You slowed down long enough for me to think you realized what you were doing to me. I closed my eyes, exhaled, and began to relax. I trusted you. The next moment came with a shift in paradigm. Like a tsunami wave that crushed my lungs and yanked the atmosphere from around me I froze in fear as you accelerated to the maximum speed within a second. I felt the control of my car slip from your hands as you tightly gripped the steering wheel. Gasping, I looked into the reflection of myself in your eyes. The slim moment I doubted your omnipotent control evaporated within the fire deep in your gaze. With that sly smirk in your eyes I knew you were finally pleased. You finally confirmed complete control over me. You had been rewriting my internal software, replacing every fiber of my will with complete dependence on your touch. As the world finally returned to me and I knew where I was, I relaxed again. However, this time, when I looked over at the driver's seat you were gone.