I often wonder if you would be angry with me.
You should have let me leave alone.
You could have watched me stumble to the car,
Without chase.
But you wanted to look after me.
I remember waking up
In the dark early that morning.
I remember how the grass felt—
Its dew cold against my face.
I remember the glass on the asphalt like stars,
As if the pavement reflected the sky.
The imposters shimmered
Whenever the moon would emerge
Briefly, from behind a cloud.
I would not have seen my car
Wrapped around an oak tree
Not two miles from our house
Had it not been for the lone streetlight on that road.
And I would not have seen you.
The heavy yellow light fell on your figure
Lying, back to me,
Contorted and deformed.
I remember that I couldn’t move.
I tried to say your name,
But it wouldn’t form on my lips.
Slowly, I sat up.
Now I felt the blood
Plastering my hair to my scalp.
I stared at your body lying there,
Peaceful and still.
I fought back a scream.
I stayed with you
Until the sirens arrived.
I watched them take you,
And there were no sirens as you left.
