8 Seconds On a Bull Named Eternity
You've been slithering your way into
my teardrops since I learned how to
2-step to the sounds of hearts breaking.
I've been cutting ties with your ghost
with every bar tab I've skipped out on;
When I get back to the car,
I have to wipe your breath away from
the rearview mirror.
The x's, and the o's of your misshapen
longing. Your cutoffs are still in the back
seat. Muddy. Abandoned. I can't bring
myself to get back there and purge the
memories of what I know we left at the creek bed.
You always said to never say
"Goodbye." That meant forever. And,
you couldn't handle that. But I've been whispering it into whiskey bottles for the past week. Hoping you'd come and
slap the dog out of me for letting
go of what you said was more than just
8 seconds on a Bull named Eternity.
It's been one God damn wild ride, hun.
But, you're still gone. And I'm tired of the blisters on my hands.
Tired of holding my breath, and waiting to see which direction you're gonna
buck. I'm laid out. Holding my ribs.
Praying you'll be broke when the Sun
comes up. That you'll bloom in the
Light, and let it wash away the grit that makes you hate the way you do.
The way you dig in your heels when anyone tries to pull you in close enough
to cradle your fragility.
Honey. I know you're wild. I love you for that.
But, the clowns have been trying their games of distraction.
No holler or git- No loud colors seem to do any good.
Them horns are coming straight for me.
And I don't think I have it in me to move.
-James Kelley 2018
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