The Car With No HeadLights

 I’m speeding down a road to nowhere, my windows are rolled down and my vibe is way up. I feel the sharp air of the wind slashing at my skin as goose bumps rise all over my body. An aura of smoke from the joint that I just puffed, still lingers in the air of my car. I step on the pedal harder, my crappy truck jolting forward and accelerating down the gravel road at a miraculously fast pace. My heart is pounding hard against my rib cage and I feel like I am about to explode.

I love this excitement. The feeling of speeding through time and hoping I’ll end up in another dimension, is a rush like no other.

I can almost taste the danger on my tongue bitter and rugged, like that beer I chugged down the other night. I am going ninety miles an hour and although I know I shouldn’t speed up something is screaming, begging me to go faster, so I do. Its pitch black outside and the only thing that surrounds me is dirt and sand, the landscape of Death Valley.

My girlfriend died in Death Valley. I was driving just as I am now, wild and out of control, practically on the verge of a mental break down. That’s when the car with no headlights came into my view. I hadn’t seen the car and crashed head first into it; throwing Norah (my lover) straight out of the car and onto that gravel road I love to speed down so much.  

I miss Norah and accelerating down this road makes me remember things about her.

The smell of her hair – a strange mixture of vanilla and incense.

Her skin – which was incredibly soft. I use love to rub her cheeks and the inside of her thighs, her most delicate places.

But she’s gone now, replaced by the coldness of this night, the danger on the tip of my tongue, and the memories of touching her supple skin.

I want to see her, so I’m speeding down this road to find the car with no headlights, hoping that maybe it will take me back to her.

StarPoet   StarPoet wrote
on 5/14/2012 3:57:03 AM
The loss of a loved one can bring such deep feelings like this up. Whether they be grief or despair or worse. I like how you told this story and the symbolisms/descriptions. Good job!

writing Nuri
I love to write because I can be everything I'm not and everything that I am at the same time and no one knows but me.
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