And I'm sitting in my work parking lot, trying to remember why my headlights don't turn off on their own, I begin to cry.
Not because it's 10 PM in a town that sleeps at 8, or because no one is here to help me, but because I can't remember the last time I laughed.
I'm sitting here, my head low into the steering wheel, crying because I never got to say goodbye to the people who mattered most.
I'm crying because all around me are burnt bridges and broken promises, and my headlights never turn off.
My car is empty, depleted.
We commiserate for a moment, thinking of unblown candles on a death bed birthday. The last whisper of love as it fades behind a crooked smile, her strawberry lips pressed against your neck, you knowing this moment is finite.
The frost on the Windows threaten to give me cold comfort where there is none, I am wrapped in a blanket of empty sorrow and hopeful wishes that will never pan out.
The lights are still on around me, the music, faded in the background, and my broke down car resonates perfectly with the broke down me.
Oh boy, I ******* up last night. Had to get two coworkers to come jump my car in the middle of the night.
