He pieces her together: eggshells She pulls him apart: saltwater And outside it is always rose-light And paper boats and some sweet breeze that nobody asked for Outside it's all honeysuckle vining up the pasture fence
She falls asleep small against his tallness He sleeps like a dog in the sun If the truck keeps running It's a metaphor for their relationship If the truck stops it's foreboding
She loves him: pins and needles He loves her: turquoise jewelry And they're forever burning like Matches on fingertips Forever noticing new wrinkles in their reflections As the mirror stays the same with age
"Do you still think you're going to marry me?"
"I won't let you get away again," he says, Knowing she's young and she's fast
She smiles like pawn shop diamonds Knowing he's lucky to have her And having never felt so stupid In her wicked wayward life