Back then

back there,
in your Peugeot,
my red plans
in your pale hands
we painted the curved,
regular world
in dashed knowing,
every version
of tiptoed obsession,
totalled the car,
as much a
shimmering, broken mess
as we were,
moved in the no one hills,
danced on a midnight road
until battery died,
where reality set in,
in the silence,
how your mother
would be disappointed,
empathy shining
through every
shadowed pore,
and I knew
you'd pull back
because we lay blame
when we can't
face a mirror