  Poetry squad car kicked out the window handcuffed and tired of this made a break for the hills tired of the way your weeping will kills.
it doesn't matter. running from what won't chase me and still handcuffed to myself; once a felon, always a felon. a convicted heartbreaker and i can't, i won't turn back. it doesn't matter. caught myself trying to force your hand, make you say the things that i want to hear; words built on the essence of intent.
no more than a scripted idyllic. no more than the shadows we cast.
it doesn't matter.
because when it matters it stirs the heart, brings us to action, and the cusp of defeat. a pledge to hang our four chambers on; fully accepting the danger of piercing that which we so unforgivingly give up. i have no time to watch this turn to dust. i have locks to pick and to see when it does truly matter. 
