Notes scribbled on your knapsack described exactly what you thought about me. Open and for the whole world to see, you pulvarized my intention so your dying breaths wouldn’t be wasted.
What to most would seem unflattering and daunting, to me makes sense and can be rendered as understandable.
Killing you wasn’t nice, wasn’t intended and wasn’t easy.
While the highway hummed and the lights of life grew dim, you walked away from the collision and became.
BLONDE ON BLONDE 