Death of Me (Hour 5)

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.
But why?

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.
But why?

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.

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