Aftermath

There was not an escape,
nor any sort of turning back;
we were alone in the crooked
shells of the world, holding on
with tethered hands and tired
souls, breaking insights as we
hunted for survival – there was
only a you and I, harboring our
love on mile markers and poor
gas station coffee, no ideas on
a direction, no actual plans for
an escape, just going and going
until we could pretend we were
gone, lost inside the disheveled
aftermath of a broken journey.

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