I am a deer,
bloodied out across the asphalt.
I am a carcass ignored in the rush of traffic.
Cars hum past my decaying corpse,
their engines like laughter,
mocking me and my shrunken body.

Before I was struck,
headlights stared me down,
reminding me of the bright things in my life that I almost touched
but never held.

I lived once.
I frolicked with my herd.
I knew what it was like to feel the cool sensation of water upon my hide on a scorching summer’s day.

When my herd left, I stayed,
frightened by the risk of rejection.
I chose to be coddled under the warm and safe light of the grassy spot I never loved but always knew
rather than to seek something greater in the dark.

I recognized that I craved more,
yet I could not decide what I wanted,
so I let my paralysis decide for me.

As the grass I once knew was stripped to pavement,
I stayed still.
I never changed.
I was moved and changed
by force.

The bones I once knew have now been ground into the blacktop.
The summer sky I once loved now cooks my skin without even flinching.
My guts, that were filled with secrets I never spilled, now stain the 101.

Wheels spin over the spot I once lived in.
The wind still moves, but it no longer carries my rotting scent with it.
I am left behind and forgotten.