we ride with demons.

he refers to me as
his girl.
and i think it's that sense of
belonging
that draws me in the most.
that and the danger,
him. how
reckless he is.

i have never been, nor
wanted to be
that girl.
the one who jumps on the back of
a motorcycle that goes way
too fast
with a guy she knows way
too little.
but he makes me that girl.
and i don't care.
because i like the way he can
make me feel
by making me feel
nothing at all.

and my new favorite feeling is when i
wrap my arms around his torso
while he drives, because i
place my palms
flat on his chest. and even though
my whole body is vibrating from
the engine beneath us,
i can still find a good place where his
heart beats strong enough
that i can feel it through my fingers.
and i turn my head sideways, to
place my ear on his back and
close my eyes when i don't want to
look anymore, when the
blur makes me sad.
and he's okay with that.

so i'm okay with the smell
of Hennessy on his breath.
because he accepts the scars
on my thighs and the ones on
my shoulders. even the ones
behind my rib cage.
and he doesn't ask how or
why.

so neither do i
when he downs a whole bottle or
smokes a whole pack
of cigarettes.