Driving Force

awkward. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . pregnant. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . pauses
and then a rushsopowerful it causes adrenaline to shoot through my veins,
it causes muscles to tense
and fists to form.
so many times i just don't know what to say.
it falls between apology and justification. it
f
a
l
l
s
between acting the child & being the adult
sometimes all i can do is hold the receiver far from ear so i don't hear the mutterings of what i believe is disappointment
anger
or sadness.
it's hard to decipher which is which.
your voice never sways. it drives in a vertical line and gains speed in the straight-a-way.
i used to wave the white flag and when you'd jolt to a stop in front of my broken body i would try to explain away the situation.
i would try to diffuse the bomb.
but these days, you speed toward me and i don't wave the flag.
don't ask for a truce.
don't try to stop you.
i let the car hit my knees.
let the tires roll over me.
this outcome, i've come to realize,
is far better for mind
body
soul
than all the others.
because when all is said and done,
i am still capable of picking my broken body off the ground
and heading in the opposite direction
of your driving force.