I picture you wearing a fake smile
as you drive over the George Washington Bridge
Each light on top of the old bridge
reflects off the windshield
and dances into your lap...

The fake smile struggles
to stay stretched 
across your face
and slowly falls apart 
as you approach my exit...

I can see you speeding by exit 52 
then panicking by 53
and finally racing for exit 54, 
where you will feel at home
and distanced from me...

You are home now in your room.
lying on your floor 
where you will sleep.
The sheets on your bed not changed 
in seven days, since I last laid with you...

I am sure you can picture me
as you lie on your floor,
still practicing your fake smile. 
You wish me for a prisoner 
in my own house...

Scared to open up a drawer, or closet
fearing I might stumble upon a memory.
You hope I have great difficulty
going through my days 
without you...

Trying to keep myself busy 
my mind astray from thoughts 
and memories of you.
As many times I try to distance myself 
And live a separate life...

I still write of us on the same page
Shared and genuinely united.