Literature
To Write Love on Her Arms
Were riding in the car like we always do, always on our way to somewhere else. Im driving, passing highway sign after mile marker, counting the interstates until we get where were going.
Shes asleep in the passenger seat, skin porcelain pale in the choked dawn sun. Its streaming through the windowpane in flashes that mark time with the gaps in the trees, just a few hundred miles more.
Somehow I cant see how this is a real thing, real like the way hearts break, but like floating up above here, just looking down into her beautiful face. I shake myself like it was only a dream, but here she is, right here in