It is not good

It has recently become clear that it is not good for me to miss my exit while driving alone. I pull over and turn the radio on. For no reason at all, just the sound of a voice not my own makes me think of you and I stop, rest my head on the steering wheel and sob until my throat is raw.

It is also not good to believe any promises given, especially that I'll be glad after it's over. What a fool to nod and say yes, yes, yes that I know one day I'll never again speak your name, that I'll crawl into a dark bed alone and smile to remember you. I'll never tell you that to keep from thinking of you I imagine a world, any world other than this. I sometimes forget, lose the reigns of fantasy and you, no, not even you, the idea of you comes back to me. And you wind your fingers in my hair and spark in the dark like electricity.