the raindrops on my windshield look like shards
        of broken glass, sharp to the touch when
        reflected on by all the other blinding
        headlights
hers was a black truck, wet in the rain, looking
        rough and **** in the sweaty love-
        making sort of way
i thought about how she had written me that note,
        a secret, and how she had torn it up and
        then thrown it out after i read it. It was a
        whisper, that secret was, a whisper of the
        love and trust she still harbored for me.
maybe we won't fade away, but theses are the reasons
i'll cry if we do.