Letras
They were leaving the park
and all the arguments they'd had there
behind, but the frustration was palpable
and her unhappiness
permeated the car's interior
like old, moldy onions.
"I'm ready to leave," she said.
He had noticed it,
but refused to respect that.
He fumed. The silence
and the gravity of the hill
wore on the state of his mind.
She didn't have to say one word.
Their feelings divulged to the point that
their cheeks were both flushed.
"I don't want anything to change,"
he said and stared downhill
to the cliff's deadly edge.
Her buckle clicked
as she let out one more
lengthy, beleaguered sigh.
The silence. The bile. The pull.
She said, "I don't think I can do this anymore."
And in a movement of garish selfishness
he released the hand brake.
The car rolled gaining momentum
toward the vastness, the waves, and the rocks
one hundred yards below.