I stared at the map, limp in my hands
It looked like a scrawl of red and blue lines,
Impossible to read with my heart in my throat.
You had your hands on the wheel,
Gripping so tight that your knuckles turned white.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I said.
My voice wavered and it sounded like more of a question.
“Just keep your eyes on the map.”
I wished that I hadn’t told you the truth.
The set of your jaw told me just how you felt.
No words to describe the fiery hot hate.
The text was still open, the phone on the dash.
I wish I had known what strife it would bring,
Two people together, in a little tin box,
And yet acres between them because of this wedge
That’s been driven between them without his permission.
“Will you please slow down,” I begged as I crumpled the map.
He could scare me at times in an average day,
Glass hitting walls when those teeth start to grind.
Last time it started with a stain on his shirt
And ended with bruises on delicate eyes.
I held the map tightly and wished I could find,
The place where we were in this tangled up mess.
We weren’t slowing down and I cried out for help.
I knew that the end was almost in sight,
Closing of eyes and extinguish the light.