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.
Just an average day living with PTSD.