Granite thoughts

The thought of you is maddening.
Whispers in my head become carvings on
a granite stone,
stamping in the every time you spoke to me
and every time you touched your brow to crinkles
and every time you smiled with the ocean in your eyes.

The thought of you exhilarates.
The pedal’s down, tires roaring down the asphalt
and I know this road will lead me nowhere
but your headlight’s up ahead and that means
there’s still a silver of a chance.

The thought of you is saddening,
the thought is not enough. It feels too much like
soaring to the clouds only to evaporate.
And I’m weary to the bones,
looking anywhere but straight ahead.
The steering wheel
sends me on this blind pursuit
for an everything that will one day grow to
nothing.

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