I pulled myself from what was left of that beater’s frame.
I scratched the VIN and I ripped off the license plate.
I poured some gasoline on top to cover up my shame.
I watched the two things I loved most go up in flames.
Sunburnt tongues the songs they’d sung spat out spit and twisted up.
Salt water, foam, a sea of grief, I spat out blood and broken teeth.
The way she used to say my name.
The way the light shined off her face.
I screamed. I looked for someone to blame.
I screamed:
“How could you? How could you? How could you take her from me?
You coward! I’ll k** you. I’ll make you wish you never lived.â€
I reached outward in shame. I looked for someone to blame.
But there was no one to find. Just the Devil and I.
I woke up in my room the next day still alive.
Sick and sober without you by my side. I turned on the Radio.
“Last night on road 25 a car was found with a woman inside.
Fractured spine, paralyzed, set on fire and left to die.â€
“How could you? How could you? How could you take her from me?
You coward! I’ll k** you. I’ll make you wish you never lived.â€
I reached outward in shame. I looked for someone to blame.
But there was no one to find. Just the Devil and I.