We raced through the jungle trails on a motorcycle,
faceless men, clad in black, chasing us.
Throwing stars at us from their Ducati’s,
you were finally saving me.
We spun around a corner,
your father’s houseboat docked within the marsh.
Safety, at last!
There was a table for the dead affixed to the stern,
extending into the water.
At first glance, I thought it was a slide.
I lay on its metallic surface, warmed by the sun, because you asked me to.
Then streams of crimson spilled into the water surrounding me,
and then I knew.
You only saved me to drain me.
I jumped from my death and stormed the boat.
You had my passport, trapping me,
saying I had no choice but to die.
Begging to know why, you told me you had to obey.
Your father wanted me dead.
There was no time for tears, I was determined to find another way.
I could run back to the ninjas and let them take me.
But just like that we were already out to sea,
and your father wanted my blood.
Standing starboard, I could see the shoreline twenty miles away.
I could swim it. I would make it to shore, and then disappear.
Before I could dive, you grabbed my arm.
You gave me the small paper bag that held my identity and a key.
I followed as you led, a jet ski tethered to the boat.
You told me to go before your father came back, it was the only chance I had.
I straddled the jet ski, ignited it’s fury, and rocketed away.
The salt spray mixed with my tears as I left you behind.
I had no thank you to say, only confusion and defiance.
The further I rode, the more my heart broke.
I loved you more than a human could ever love,
but you were the death of me.