Backseat

His yearning passion filled the backseat. The flame flickered wildly, They both felt the heat When the tender bloom peaked It’s head through the soil at the base of their feet. The tender affection had grown to obsession, Their relationship simply perfection. They cherish the moments they created together And ignore the scorn they felt grow for each other. His inner soul urged. “Bamboozle all oppositions” He knew better than to attempt to listen to intuition. The struggle in his inner soul— his lack of compassion— Washed away the foundation of their makeshift relationship. A handful of abomination seeped out his fingers. The ghost of who they were would indefinitely linger.