Distance, measured in heart beats rather than miles, loses significance when, pressed against my chest, my cell messages you, you in the dark where your bed saves my space after your sleep comes. My heart seems content, its brief broadcast complete.
I will not harm you, will not, won’t knock on your door to unravel your well-woven cocoon, its layers so tightly wrapped I know they’re not mine to unwind, only yours for undoing reluctantly until you trust my love, then welcome my caring, embrace our connection.
Feint, then dodge; avoid obstacles and roadblocks. Master hairpin turns. This track, where racers race, has its own etiquette; its harsh demands attracts those who test skill and survival lap after lap at speeds that make defying death more visible, its vital glimpse much nearer.
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