You were a passing car in the rain, headlights making patterns on oil and tarmac

Leave sensitivity for the empath, it’s not my nature to wring my hands

Over short lived affairs or hungry people who try

To bleed dry and fill themselves, for they are so empty, even the wind can rattle their bones

If I were ever heartbroken it was as a child, not lying next to you

Watching our trajectories turn and mouth the words without emotion