Bound to Crash

                                                                          Bound to Crash
                                                                    by Brandon McClaskey

Used to be part of my heart, turned part of my past.
Should have know when your skirts shouted, “Pardon my ass.”
And I had to rebuttal with, “Pardon my class.”,
That you were nothing but a photocopy; carbon, of trash.
Constantly accusing me of having a hard-on for cash.
Well if I DO have a need for the finer things in life, this will never last.
The “good days” constantly ready to break; more fragile than glass.
We always knew how to remount the pieces and we did it fast.
Making up was a joyride that read 180 mph on the dash.
Seat belts fastened, knowing that we were bound to crash.
Though, fantasies always fulfilled on a bed of C-4. We had a blast!
But, sick of the battles. Tired of the war. We’re titans that will always clash.
So today, I pack up my armor; plated with brass.
I’ll bring you a safe. You can lock away your mask.
At some point, keeping you in my life became a constant task.
I’ll gladly exchange an empty passenger seat for a consistently empty flask.