Traffic and hurried thoughts

Mother never worries about the road
so Father speaks of the sun and asphalt

There’s never a turn that pricks this hard
so remember why I write this to you

there are days when we stick like cursive
and other times we’re far apart like space and time

do not yield to fights that do not spill your blood
If only I listened to the words of the wind.

The countless nights we tried naming stars
the rainy days when everywhere became dew

Today I cried after I laughed at me
I didn’t listen to my steady heart

I believed you were gonna be mine
forgetting this road has its own traffic lights

and presently, it’s a jam for us all
when you married last Saturday

it won’t bother me, I keep telling myself
so maybe not today, but I’d cry on my own wedding.

Ruddapoet

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