I've been trying to figure out where to start with you.
It's like trying to put a pinpoint on a city that doesn't exist anymore.
I'm always looking at a faded map when it comes to you.
Maybe that's why I start all my sentences with "and"
and maybe that's why I haven't gotten a good nights sleep in 3 years.
Beginnings have always evaded me.
I've never cared for small talk or formalities.
The "oh that's nice" that seems to line the purse that is every first conversation.
The pin fell out of the wall again,
the map's crumpled on the floor.
It looks the way I imagine your body did.
Your body.
My bed.
And a highways worth of empty space.
Your body.
I didn't need another parking lot.
I needed a **** highway but you had to go and ruin that.
Your body.
I have driver seat phobia.
They say I fear control but what they don't understand is that I fear being out of control.
The same way you don't fear the dark,
you fear not seeing.

Your body. Six feet of dirt. Parking lots.

I'm so sick of having my foot on the brake.
I swear every steering wheel has the word "and" etched into.
The seams of the leather.
The stitches in your head.
I can't start a car or a sentence.