evening thoughts.

the sound of rubber buzzing on pavement
weaves through the darkened quilt
that i stare deeply out and into
seeming so far off
like the proximity of our hands that stretches out into miles of road before us.
this space is comfortable,
closing in to connectivity,
and i notice the occasional subtle glances that you steal
searching for a reaction to the warmth of of your fingertips on my skin
or a confirmation that these pieces fit together
just right
as i continue to search the passing landscape
bathed in washes and hues
of evening
and waking stars.
for some reason,
i didn't want you to see the way
the butterflies hit the walls of my stomach
on their way up to my throat
or know that my heartbeat was fluttering faster than their wings
stirring up a confusion between desire and desistence,
that felt too right to desist.