hearing you sing a song that
reminds you of me
with cars driving through puddles in the background
i am ******* sobbing

you said my life is a poem—
i always thought it would be poetic if it ended in the snow
a metaphor for how i always loved the cold

ironic that there are strips and chunks
of my own blackened, rotting flesh
stuck in my throat
i’m choking on myself and it feels like a freezing rain in december
and it feels like something to remember

cars driving through puddles in the background
cars on the interstate driving through puddles
i stood there on the bridge just to have a place
where i could see the cars
where i could wish it was snowing
and i could see the cars driving through puddles

holding you like snow, like water in my hands
hearing you sing a song that
reminds you of me
with cars driving through puddles in the background
i am ******* sobbing