Rear view mirror.

I'm in a car packed with all of my lessons

learned and sentimental memories,

and I'm told that its time to leave.

But I'm not ready yet.

In the glove compartment are all of

my unanswered questions and a few regrets.

Still, I'm told I have to go.

Lock those away and forget them, I'm told.

Painfully I accept, and I lock the glove compartment.

Can't I have just one last hug?

How come I have to go so soon?

I'm told that it'll be better this way.

The door is closed without that hug.

I'm told to leave, but I don't want to lose sight.

I look back in the rear view mirror

hoping for a wave goodbye.

Instead, it turns out that I'm not the one leaving first.

I watch you walk away and turn the corner out of sight.

I sit for awhile hoping that its not really time yet.

But nothing ever changes.

I'm forgotten now.

So I guess its time for me to try to forget.

I tear off the rear view mirrors and begin to drive away.

I drive slow at first, but then my anger overcomes me and I speed up.

I roll down

the windows

and open the

glove compartment

to let my unanswered

questions fly away.

I just go on forever.

I can't see behind me anymore but I can still remember.

I'll never forget.

I'll never know that

you didn't leave completely.

You were hiding

behind the corner,

out of sight.

You'll never know that

there is still one unanswered

question that wouldn't fly away.

Why did you make me go?

Maybe someday you'll get in your car and try to catch up with me.