Passing glances from the passenger's seat, the rain causing havoc in the empty streets. Pauses and eyelids and sideways stares. It's so cold, I'm so empty, you're too distant. Allowing myself to remember, then forcing myself to forget. Trips to the dentist with teardrops and layered jackets complete, apologies and promises for a better tomorrow. Wake up to find this old room empty, white walls and a twin bed pushed up against a wall to leave room for all of the nothing's we owned together. Pots of coffee left to burn on the stove, broken smoke alarms leaving us to what we will become. I won't let you closer, you won't let me leave. I'm falling into a deep disappearance, fabricating my existence, pretending I'm alive. I'm wide awake, I'm seeing you for the first time since June and you look the same except less facial hair and more pretentious air. You've got it all, now leave me alone. This tiny apartment with the peeling floorboards, the words won't leave my mouth unless you reach in and grab them. I'm reading you like a book, you're further gone than you know. Reach the Interstate by morning, I'll be seeing you.
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