With a face like that, I could regret
Things that never happened,
Or things that happened quietly
Under our noses but above our throats

I experience intensely and meekly.
Colors pour through my eyes,
Sloshing the recesses of my mind.
Air stirs, a feather licking bone.
Necks swell and throats wither
Beneath the advancing heat.

If the world was so vibrant to others
And if people bursted with color,
I'm sure I'd feel less alone.

Do you plan to live life
Shackled to my tombstone
When I'm dead and gone?

A crack in your foundation
Demands a certain patience;
Your life can stumble on.

I would have been anybody's angel;
I didn't mind the love.
The halo in the shimmering lights as I spin, dances behind
As the wings, the feathered dreams, tower on the other side.
It's greener, you know.
It's greener and darker.
And here, staggering along the pit between goodness and liberty,
I have to ask, "What good am I, anyway?"
I'm no good on my own,
So I could be anybody's angel.

Our fading photograph,
Hand in hand, baby faces.
We were too young
To know what that meant.
Or was he?
That, and the "I love you".
I was too young
To think to say "not yet."

It might have been alright
If not for the sneers
And the names that followed.
I never told my family,
But he's been to court for it, now.
I didn't know then,
But I think I was the first.
Back then, I thought it only counted
If you were fighting.

Maybe it our naive mistake.
Maybe he was too young to know
That I was too tired to fight.

His shining eyes and his baby face
Gaze wearily, not forcefully
Back at me.
They can call me what they please.
I thought I was in love.
Then again, I was too young.

In hours between Summer eves and Autumn dawns
Leaves blush between rubber and asphalt and time.

A speedometer shivers as fog finds the windshield
And covers the glass with frosty breath.

A fuel tank chokes on its fumes.
Inhaling.
Exhaling.
An engine shudders onward.

Silent roads stretch infinitely, shattered by stop signs
Which sigh at this car which lacks brakes.

I was hoping to make it 'til Christmas at least.
The sky's darkness dances, dizzy as it falls
While pinpricks of light close their eyes to rest.

This car, this road, these signs are old.
I've never felt so alive;

As crimson blue lights whirl in shivering mirrors
I only regret that I might have driven faster,