Thoughtless

I put my hand on your leg, my head on your shoulder, and gaze at the slow moving constellations as you drive us in the middle of no where in your old pickup truck.

Perfection at its finest.

I move my hand away, pick my head up off your reliable shoulder, and gaze at your intense, concentrated face.

Perfection at its finest.

I know if I could choose any last image to see before I die, it would be this. Your sturdy jaw, slightly pointed nose, pouty lips, and hard eyes. The love in your fingertips as they trace my unworthy knee. Your mouth faintly moving as you sing along to the radio, so hushed that I can barely hear you. The tingly feeling you give me deep in my tummy as you press on the accelerator.

Perfection at it's fi-------

BOOM. That car runs a red light, slamming into your old pickup truck. I instantly die from the impact, my last image of you and your aura of perfection. I'm not sorry, I'm thankful. To live after a moment of such bliss with you would make every other second of life dreadfully unsatisfying.