we bled quietly, but we were free. there is no love where there is no agony.
nearby, the birds flying past us on a long dark stretch of highway loneliness granted brief respites of sound and motion before rushing by to starlit nights and clear, clear skies. we followed them, stepping gingerly out of our wrecked, torn bodies that held each other in crumpled and twisted art forms. away from the sheets and stretchers, we followed the birds and ran on swift, light feet, laughing and never looking back.
car crash romance promising as the only forecast for two days straight.