As they catch up,
the bass starts bouncing.
Your fingers gallop across her skin.
Weary-eyed; you pick up speed.

Your heart a steaming engine,
whispering heat from each ventricle.
Pumping into overdrive exhaustively.
Yet, she allows you one last ride.

You give it all you got.
Blood flows madly.
Her eyes light with excitement.
Everything passing blurs.
Absolute serenity.

The motor flatlines, exhausted; empty.
They have you; it's all over.
You're her favorite song, galloping gently.
She's the temperance to your gluttony.
Fallen into arms, the two sob infinitely.

All the kids
I teach tennis to
at work
have bright eyes.

Sparkling blues,
dazzling greens,
even brown eyes shine bright
on the kids at tennis camp.

There's their bright, wide eyes
soaking up the world around them--
and then there's
my dull green ones;

light ****** out
years back,
by the same world
these kids are trying to absorb.

They are so
pure
innocent
whole--

why am I
the teacher
in this situation?
I am nothing but

tarnished
corrupted
broke
and broken.

The sad part is
these kids can't even
teach me how to be
whole again because

you didn't know
you were whole
until the world finally
breaks you.

he wears cowboy boots to bed
and says "yes ma'am" like sweet tea pouring from his sunburnt lips
once we went up to the lake hitched our horses and went skinny dipping and he left his hat on

he removes his hat as a sign of respect
he holds a hand over his heart for the friends he left behind
he taught me to ride like my soul was being set free from that castle walls that were built

he two stepped with my mamma
when the music rang out through the grass
but that didn't make up for the time I was late for dinner because we couldn't pull our eyes from the stars

he shook hands with my father over burgers on the grill
high fived my little brother and called me baby
but that didn't make up for the time that we drove out the canyon and danced our way to the top of a mountain with no reception
we danced and swayed and stayed until the moon called me home

I know true darkness,
it's something that can sway you.
We think of demons or ghost,
but in reality, they're right next to you.
Wearing flesh just like you.

Think of this;
If someone cares too much,
is that seen black or white?
Maybe a hidden agenda,
maybe control out of spite?

Manipulators; they understand subconsciously.
Seeing other people's potential, like a curse,
allowing them to chose your fate, which is worse?
Slowly, they can elevate you, but in a instant as a lost
interest; they can murmur disappointment.

Premeditating all outcomes.
Exhausting their mind by weaving words.
Someone who is plotting has foresight,
or is human behaviour playing its part?

Some who see too much, know too much.
Having high expectations,
allowing them to manipulate fate.
Power over probability is dark and deadly.
Should you feel afraid of these weavers,
simply remind yourself; they can be great.