That Day

You left me in the dirt

I just waddled off not completely sure
of what happened quite yet.

Said I'd walk home, because I knew there
wasn't room in the car
even though I was offered a ride
and said it was so I could smoke a cigarette
to numb down the apologies.

I think most of what happened wasn't true
even though I act as if it were
and ask myself why it replays in my mind so often.

You left me in the dirt

I stood up from the weed strewn hill,
just out of sight of any passerby officers
and wiped the dust from my trousers.

That was the day I figured out
cigarettes couldn't solve my problems,
make them go away any less
no matter how much I wanted them to.

I smoke nonetheless.

The walk over the narrow bridge
was the hardest part. Cars everywhere
they could see me- every last one of them
they could see that I was waddling,
and my eyes...

They could see there was something wrong
with my eyes.

I wasn't crying, still.