These streets that twist and turn in front of my
rearview like I left you that night last spring-
twisted in your sheets, heart breaking, a ring
without a hand to hold its diamond high-
lead me down the same road, the same old sky.
But now my car is empty and I sing
our love song in silence, my lips that cling
to the last taste of you and our last sigh.
The suitcase skyline holds me here although
I try to pack your smell under my bras
and travel size shampoo. But I can’t drive
away, can’t seem to drive your scent below.
The wheel circles round all of my faux pas.
Without you here all I can do is drive.