Gravel is stuck in the siping
of my tires, in the crevices
of my boots.
They are too small for my wandering
feet, but they match the way my heart
beats with a caged restraint. So I zipped
them over these old jeans
I should’ve tossed years ago,
but I don’t have the nerve to dispose
of your memory. It is stitched into the
pockets where I keep you tucked
I am constantly held back.
The elevation cuts my breathing
short- curses struggle to pass
through chapped lips, a dull
tongue. My desire to escape slips
out without question.
I follow; I stop.
Wind whips between branches, and I see the foliage pull
lovers’ secrets through needles that cannot hold
on much longer.
The trees appear untouched. No force
of nature could possibly reveal the loudness
a soul emits when left to rot