stuck,

like a car in a traffic jam.

I cannot find an exit

in this never ending road.

no escape;

you are my final destination

but we have run out of gas.

you were my final destination,

but you lead to nowhere.

no fuel left to continue this drive;

all that's left will rot.

the doors are locked;

our mouths are shut.

this drive is wringing my lungs like a towel

draining it of oxygen; I am breathless.

my soul is kneaded into yours

our hearts blend and blossom into flowers

whose tight strings tie us together.

my wrists ache and I cannot find the scissors

the strings only get tighter

my thoughts intertwine with yours;

it's getting dangerous.

they slip through our minds and

make their way through the maze of lies;

but when they arrive at the core,

all we can see is the bitter truth.

I wish I could say I felt miserable,

but in our minds lay the same exhaustion of each other.

I wish I could say we withered

but it's only real flowers that do.

exhalation releases carbon dioxide

and you have stolen all the oxygen;

you can't breathe that in, now can you?

or have I forgotten to mention

fake flowers don't breathe anyway.

•••

Hey everyone! I'm so lucky to have readers such as you guys and you're the best. Thank you so much for getting me to 1K; y'all always make my day. Thank you for all your endless support. I really appreciate it and it means the world to me.

•••

I like to keep my poems a bit vague, so if you were somehow confused, read on

This poem is about two lovers bounded by their marriage. They can't really divorce each other (reason not specified) so they're stuck with each other. The speaker compares it to being stuck in a car with no oxygen. She finds out that her lover feels the same way towards her; they're both exhausted of this marriage. In the end, she compares herself & her lover as 'fake flowers' because at this point, their love towards each other isn't even real.

•••

I know, I know. Explaining it can ruin it's art but I couldn't help myself.