highway

We were past the highway when you realized you never knew me at all 
Regret is the word we use when we wish we could forget
So you ask
And I speak
You glance anywhere but at me
The trees reach in: soft, canary yellow appendages gliding against your skin 
As if to comfort you 
I am alone in my box, watching the scene like a bystander 
The cars weave in and out in front of you 
My words do the same, monosyllabic as they are 
Perhaps the silence held the knife 
While my words were mere menacing pinpricks 
Stoplight: blinking yellow then un-approving red 
Stop 
Exactly like a mother would scold 
Her bright-eyed child for being too eager 
Green 
You realize it might have been better not knowing me at all 


Afterall, forgetting ensures there is nothing to regret