October 9, 2012
By AAM31795 BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
AAM31795 BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"A true man is not judged by his medals or awards, a true man is judged by his scars."

We exchange goodbyes, getting into our cars.
The empty seat next to me screams her name.
I roll down my windows
But her hair is not there to blow in the air.
I feel the wind tap dance off of my forearms.
But her arm is not there pirouette in the draft.
I lay one hand gently on my knee.
But her hand is not there to rest beside it.
Her shimmering vivid eyes are nowhere to be found.
I watch her car pull out ahead of me
Straining my neck to get a glimpse of her
But to no avail.
I slam the Chevy into drive and speed after her.
She turns before a stream of cars, no such luck for me.
I finally turn, speeding towards the traffic light.
My last chance.
But too late. I see the faint image of her carriage in the distance.
I turn right, crawling along the flat road. There was no need to speed now.
I stare at my radio, turning once again, to music.
“Sooooo long. I’ve been looking so hard, I’ve been waiti-”
I punch the off button and the gas pedal simultaneously.
As the world blurs around me, everything still reminds me.
But I can’t see her now.
I can’t see her ever.
Not the same way.
It won’t ever be the same.
Not like it was that night.

The author's comments:
This poem is dedicated to her.

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