Endless roads

You and I,
I wouldn’t mind driving
to nowhere,
with the windows down,
and music blaring,
nothing between us
but unspoken understandings
and the lingering stale smell
of cigarette smoke,
the truth is,
I could do this forever.
I read maps
and trace my fingertips across narrow
winding routes,
overcome by
a weird sense of sadness,
when my hands reach their destination,
because the only thing scarier
than having to keep moving,
is not knowing where you’re going,
I wish we could drive forever,
but it seems,
there are no endless roads.

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