unknown #07

We’re driving across the bridge back from my house and your 

       eyes wander across the grey water to the opening of trees and the slightly-exposed                                          sands that lace the beach. 

        You tell me that you love me and I smile, but look backward toward the spot

                 where I tried to jump out of the car and think about the time that I did 

                                                                and I look at you, 

                                                                                               smile.

     I told you once that I was only human and that weakness is only

                                                                   natural,

             I am, and it is, but even now

   I look over to the drivers seat and catch your eyes and

                           wonder how small I would have to be to become

                     invisible and

                               how long it would take you to replace me.

          For the final time, I turn to you,

                                                         smile, 

                                                               and tell you how deep my love does run for you

                                              (and my God, does it)

                            before unhinging your seat belt, opening your door

                                                   and pushing you out,

                                                           saving you the trouble of 

                                                    a moments more time 

                                                                                     with me.