This house could burn down
around us,
but I wouldn’t see the flames
or feel my skin melt
or taste the ash in the air.
This car could smash
into a thousand pieces
with us in it,
but I wouldn’t hear the glass shatter
or feel the metal scrape my skin
or taste the busted lip
the dashboard gave me.
It could all end tomorrow –
this world we live in –
but I wouldn’t know the difference
or feel the rot permeate my bones
or taste the dirt as I turn to dust.
“Could” means nothing
when you are by my side.
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