A poem that gives a glimpse into my writing style.
Car rides where Dad plays Def Leppard and we both sing along, even though I don’t know the lyrics.
Balancing on a bike becomes stumbling over lyrics, he holds my hand either way.
Car rides where tears.
Confessions are tumbling out of my mouth. They fly into the windshield, covering it in a blurry glaze. Dad can’t see the road, I can’t see past my own mistakes, and no one can see us.
Car rides that reveal God’s true nature.
The moment courses through me, past me, over me. Before I know it, it’s gone. I can see Him smirking in the rearview mirror. He taunts me with the things I cannot have.
Car rides that are never spoken about again.
I am held captive in movement.