On my way home,
It starts to snow.
It’s not cold enough to stick,
Just stays there in sprinkles across my windshield,
Melting into each other.
I let the droplets pile up until I can’t see anymore,
Like the tears that I can’t stop from pouring out.
I always find myself here,
Pushing myself to the breaking point
When I could have clicked on my windshield wipers at any time.
I’d rather swerve off the road,
Lose all footing with reality,
Than to use my goddamn windshield wipers.