How can he still look at me like that? How do we still know what the other is thinking? He shouldn’t be allowed to look at me like that, cuz I always knew before what it meant. I know what that smile says. Yet I also see him as he is, when I first see him. He won’t smile, he doesn’t laugh. Not at first. That’s when he’s still in his current life. After awhile he regains his old self. The one I knew. Then it’s time to go. Then I see it or he says it. The regret. I see him shredding himself from the inside out and no forgiveness from me will stop it. I usually cry, he does sometimes. Burying my needle on tha freeway gets me nowhere fast. My truck will never take me where it is I wanna go. Instead is taking me away. Not far enough. You can’t run from what’s inside. It will never be what I want it to. Maybe I’ll blow a tire and this will all be over. Then I won’t have to remember that smile and then later that look that says it all. The honest truth is I’ve got my own blender going on tha inside. Knowing that he is it. There will not be anyone else. I watch him walk away again.