Guilt and Grime

Your hands are probably cold Holding that "Anything Helps" sign At least I hope it's the chill shaking them Sitting at this glaring red light watching you; Waiting while this red light is judging me, Condemning me as I squander time Sizing up the hunch of your posture And the vacancy of your expression Thank god you didn't look at me I couldn't have taken it And as the light turned green, I realized That the shower waiting for me at home Couldn't possibly clean the grime I accumulated Just by driving away.

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