Aug 27

a short poem about a car ride

life goes by as if i am sitting in the
backseat of a car, watching droplets race
down the glass because there is nothing
else for me to do. 

watching my reflection because you
are not here, and there was no "you" in
the first place, i just want to feel like 
i was held, at some point.

life goes by quickly, my days blurring
and bleeding into the next, like the trees that
i am left to watch, passing me by like they were
never even there.

i used to like to exhale against the window,
and draw a face on the little fogged up area,
letting it smile back at me. 
now i just look out and wait for something
new to show up in the green blur that i've been
staring at for 6 months.

sometimes i cry. i cry because i'm so tired of this,
this repetetiveness, these days of staring out of a window,
of sitting in the backseat as someone, something else
keeps driving me further into the woods. 

sometimes i just close my eyes, and try to fall asleep.