Fleeting Drive

Updated: Nov 25, 2019

Through the depths of my driving thoughts, you send me a message, disrupting my daydreams.

I change directions to meet you. We exchange pleasantries.

They’re pleasant, but nothing more.

I want to ask about your life, to try and understand a world with a population of one.

I choose instead to bite my tongue, too nervous to break the thin ice separating us from a rushing flow of connection.

You’re gone before I know it, back to writing the story I had longed to read.

You’ve left an empty space in my rear-view.

I endure a few moments of solitude, considering what could have been, before another takes your spot.

Perhaps this time I’ll have the courage to speak.

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