They never should have crossed paths.
She was a fighter jet.
He was a freight train.
They touched only for a moment.
In that moment they were stuck.
Her wings intertwined with his his rusty railroad tracks.
Vines of unrest ripped apart their aging nuts and bolts, leaving them nothing but heaps of scrap metal.

They never should have crossed paths.
He was a brute.
She was a Lotus.
He encased her in glass and claimed her as his own.
She settled into captivity, and after long years without a breeze to caress her petals, his fists began to feel like kisses.
He destroyed her and the guilt ripped through him like a bolt of electricity.

They never should have crossed paths.
She was a star.
He was a meteor.
They crashed and there was a flash.
In that flash, she was brightest thing in the universe.
He crumbled and became nothing more than stardust,
drifting endlessly.

They never should have crossed paths.
They were reckless children,
wandering aimlessly through life as seasons change.
They grew into reckless adults,
running without knowing how to walk.