In the big, blue sweater
that drowns my figure,
I cry in your car.
On the leather seats,
worn out by travel
tarnished by sunshine and dirt.
I used to sit, in the back seat
and you would play the radio
and talk too loud, like you always did.
I would put my earphones in
and try to forget
that I was still alive.

In the front seat here,
I am a big girl.
My feet don’t dangle
from the seats like they did
when I was younger,
and you held me in your arms
and I felt all the world
around me was so big
but really, I just felt small.

In the drivers seat,
you sat
and asked me why
I looked so sad
all the **** time,
as if my sadness could be explained.
And I told you the truth; my truth;
that when I woke up
I wished I hadn’t.
Then you said to me,
‘you are so selfish to say that’
But I was too far gone to care.