A Foggy Intimacy

The engines continued, out and through.

The city's stood still, as the ignitions knew.

That all would be different, if one moment hadn't happened, but then again, does any one moment not ever happen?

 Postponed perhaps... Merely abolished, out ridden and cursed, wrecked and unworthy of somebody's load

 of a terrible road. 

Where the accident waited for that poor, merciful girl. 

She only put her foot down, to realise her mistake.

An overtake much severe as the noise hit her ear. 

Troubled birds gathered near, wishing the rain hadn't interfered.

 As the roads became slippery, dangerous and gone

was the car that she bought, over the bridge and splash went her train of thought, it echoed and warned any hope of interact. 

But the engines continued, 

out and through.

And the city erupted as the ambulances knew.

Reviews

[Pencrafter]

Your poem is very unusual, coaching ideas along twisting sentences. You could, perhaps, include a word about fog, other than in the title. Interesting.

[Tai Ryens]

Quite haunting imagery you have here, especially the realization that most people fail to come to: that they'll go on while you are buried under a metallic heap of junk, never to stop and check on your condition.

[Athera Rose]

Very well written and interesting.
I really like it.