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25
26

27 drafts of unfinished thoughts

27 times I couldn't get the words right

27  visits to compartmentalized sectors of the brain

27 emotions much too painful to feel all at once

at least 100 more times i will revisit

28
29
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∞

I still look for you in every truck that passes.

6 months and still no sign that you continue to exist in this world
in something more than my memory.

Did anyone ever tell you I was back in town?
Have you gone searching for me?
Do you know what you've done?

You don't know the risk that I take
every time I leave my house.
Preparing to succumb
to a numbness of flashbacks.
Still hoping that our lives
do not cross paths again.

But I'm ready,
nonetheless,
to plot my escape.
If ever we are boxed in;
in gas stations or supermarkets
in dog parks or local bars.
The bright red lights of each exit sign;
embedded into my memory.
They are the light at the end of a sunless journey.

My plans aren't guaranteed, though
because I don't know what I'd do
if I were to ever see your face again.
I think that'd I run.

It wasn't until today; 6 months later,
that I wondered why I've been looking
for the person that frightens me the most.

So I won't look at the trucks that I pass as I drive.

I don't care if you're in them.