THE RUSH OF THE RUIN

 

The Rush and the Ruin  

____________________________-

Adrenaline surged, a wildfire in my blood,

Lust coiled tight, a serpent under my skin,

As I sank into the passenger seat—

Your car, a steel beast growling beneath us,

Engine humming secrets through the dashboard’s glow.

No map, no endpoint, just the thrill of escape—

Windows yawning wide, gulping the night,

Wind clawing at my hair, sharp and alive,

Speed blurring the world into streaks of neon and shadow,

The clutch slamming into fifth gear,

A jolt that shook my bones with a lover’s promise.

That was us—stripped to the raw pulse of motion,

A rhythm so pure it hooked me deep,

Made me crave the replay,

The reckless loop of you and me against the asphalt.  

The road stretched endless then,

Headlights carving gold through the dark,

Your hands steady on the wheel,

A quiet command I mistook for care.

I’d lean into the curve of your laughter,

Sharp as the turns we took too fast,

The radio spitting static and bass,

A soundtrack to our wild, unspoken pact.

Every mile marker a tattoo on my memory,

Every rev of the engine a vow I swore I’d keep—

To chase this high, this us,

Through the haze of exhaust and midnight air,

Never guessing the skid marks you’d leave behind.  

But you—oh, you wielded chaos like a crown,

Spit on those flickering yesterdays,

Torched the Polaroids of our joy in a bonfire of disdain.

Your shock-and-awe campaign hit like a grenade,

Shrapnel tearing through the trust I’d built,

A blitz of cold glances and jagged words,

Each one a tire screeching away from what we were.

I never dreamed this fracture of time—

This screeching halt after the high-octane rush—

Would bloom into a bitter gift,

A blessing veiled in the dust of your departure,

Showing me the truth in the rearview mirror:

You were never the destination, just the detour.  

Kindness lies barren here,

A desert cracked open between us,

Its sands choking the space where warmth once grew.

We share this wasteland now,

Two strangers circling the wreckage,

The air thick with the stench of burned rubber and regret.

Your version of the golden rule—

“Do unto others as you damn well please”—

Twists like a knife in my ribs,

Unbelievable, yet glaringly real.

You’d preach fairness with a smirk,

Hand me crumbs and call it a feast,

While I starved for the scraps of the man

I thought I’d raced beside—

A phantom who floored it through my life,

Then peeled out, leaving skid marks on my soul.  

Looking back, the thrill was a lie I told myself,

A drug I swallowed to numb the ache of knowing—

That car, that speed, that fifth-gear kick,

Was just a cage with the door flung wide,

And I was the fool who climbed in willingly.

Now the engine’s cold, the windows sealed shut,

The road ahead a flatline of silence.

Adrenaline’s gone, lust drained dry,

But the echo of your tires still hums in my veins—

A ghost of the rush,

A taunt of the ruin,

A reminder that even the wildest rides

End in a ditch if the driver’s heart is a runaway wreck.