I've seen this look on faces two other times before;
Full of sickness (with signs of terror) on my front porch.
You drove it all the way home
And parked on the shops bathroom floor
To send a message to my pocket

which should have said: "These tests are hardly accurate.
" Oh please, don't let this get the best of me.
It's probably nothing. It has got to be nothing.

A perfect chance to right my wrongs
where I've made mistakes before,
in stoic anticipation on my front porch.

But, our teeth are sore
in places from the bullet we haven't bit
so I'll ball my hands into fists
to take the shaking from my fingertips.

Any other news is good news on a day like today.
Give me one more week and keep me busy.
Give me one more week and don't remind me.