take the wheel

in the car
the air was caked and brittle
and silence threatened to fall apart in crumbs of tears
so much to say
and so much left unsaid.

the unspoken words unspent themselves
unravelling in stagnant time
like single threads fraying from wool
fraying always occurs alone.

who's to speak,
and who's to listen?

there is a kind of closeness that is too barriersome
a kind of buffer that cuts too close.