holy red light.

I want my engine to seduce me.

I’m stalled at this red light—

something inside me is begging

begging

for it to never change.

Not tonight.

Not in the rain.

I like this moment too much,

exhausted

by the downpour

this suspended breath

this infinite hour

the dashboard is the altar

the headlights are my cheekbones.

Green means tomorrow.

Green means too long.

But here, in the bruise of night—

I am allowed this steady heartbeat

to be nothing but waiting.

I want to watch each drop of rain

strip down my windshield.

I want my engine to seduce me—

make me patient,

make me loosen.

Because here, the red is kind.

It sits in its stubborn mercy

like a wound I didn’t ask for.

So I sit.

I wait.

I am not moving forward.

I am permitted to be the pause

before the inevitable,

doomed to carry

the morning.