A Thousand Miles of Burning Road

After a full five minutes of silence on the other end of the line
I still cannot tell you why it is I hum so badly to be the end
why I want to be a thousand tons of steel and momentum
howling from the city and into the pinesap woods,
to leave behind me the echoes of a thousand tiny whispers
'he could have been so much more...'

It terrifies you that I am not terrified of being lonely
that I wrap my solidarity around me like a blanket
that I could never love you quiet as much as the stranger
with hot lips and an uncharted body
and a name that I cannot quite make fit around my tongue.

What truly terrifies me is the thought that I might
be taking your hand inside of my own, so gently
leading you to the train tracks,
just before I decide it is time for me to slow dance
with the pines; to ignite. To go.

I fear I may mislead you into believing
I want something other than to press my stories
into your skin and turn you into one of them.
When I am gone I want you to remember,
that even though my red-hot 'i love you's
may taste like soot, they are truth.

You are scared that one day I will simply decide
to pack up my bags and avoid convenience stores
that I may touch a match to the edge of the inked maps
where I have promised I will go.
Darling, one day this will happen I know
and I will not even glance at the flames in my mirrors.