The car swerves gently
coasting down the main drag of our street with a cigarette in hand
I close my eyes,
She drives, why, she asks me
About my prospects and I see that she has no vision for what is ahead

I am filled with empty words
Letting them loose with false weight, watching them fall like feathers
From a bird caught in a snare,
Trying not to look-over but over-looking everything
That used to make her passions ignite,
Now just a pile of tinder thrown down
For a little warmth during the long winter.