In the end I will only have these words.
Everyone else will leave
and I will have pages and pages of thoughts
to keep me company on these cold nights;
pages and pages of dreams
to haunt me until the sun comes up.
Would you still like to share my pain?
It’s easy to watch from a distance as that tiny blue car gets smashed in between a truck and a sedan…
it’s hard to be in the tiny blue trunk.
It’s a metaphor. It's a comparison to help you see why I was gone.
I wish I could tell you who I was but honey, I am still writing the answer.
And once I figure it out, I will be the first to know. Clearly.
I might tell you, but only if the answer is good enough to share.
This isn’t what I wanted to be when I grew up. xoxo
