Slow trickle of remaining feelings

drowning the memories

and making you a blurry image

in the rearview mirror

of my old clunker of a car,

used to travel miles

from my home

to a little Midwestern town

where I learned the meaning of softness

and resilience at the same time

all encompassed in loneliness

that guided me

into adulthood of more solitude

among people

pretending to have my eyes focused on them,

slow trickle

flow of forgetfulness.

I wait for you to leave my thoughts.