I keep thinking about the headlights on the wrong side of the road. Or so I thought. I still hear the screeching of brakes and the shattering of glass as we hit head first the semi-truck flying towards us. His last words. His hand on my belly. Him saying he will love me till the day he dies. Him saying he will raise our baby the right way and that he will never leave. He went through the windshield on the second hit by the car behind us. Gone instantly. The worst part of this whole nightmare is, he had a life ahead of him, I had loneliness and misery without him.
I didn't drive for almost a year after that. I couldn't. It was my fault. He lost everything. I lost everything. His parents lost their only son they had left. The others lost to alcohol poisoning, a knife, and prison. It was my fault. I should have listened to him.
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A Place I'll Never Return To
Poetry"Cuss words on Mondays and Hymns on Sundays" was what my grandmother always told me with a little chuckle at the end when she would be baking bread for dinner. She had been saying that ever since I can remember and it never bothered me till I grew u...
