like playing phone tag

on an open highway

waiting for cars to be her backdoor.

when does running become impossible

and when will she stop getting motion sickness

from his words?

spoon fed tasteful senselessness

such that it eventually goes down.

he is not for her

he does not deserve her minutes

yet like a dog with a stick she returns


and again

and again

until she is drunk on dizziness.

he cuts corners

into paper snow flakes that look like a perfect storm.

in silence she has always known he will never love her the way she wants him to.