She’d come so far,
but not quite enough.
A lipstick tipped cigarette,
flicked on it’s last puff.
She hit the gas,
igniting,
setting fire
to the past,
speeding past
all the red lights that she passed
along the way.
Hoping, dreaming, thinking
about what would be someday,
if from today
she sped away,
and found a way to break
the past
into pieces,
make the present an escape,
find her destination
a place to face her fate.
About the Creator
jl wood
I write fiction I've been scared to post, and poems I spam everywhere.
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