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Passenger Seat
Passenger Seat
12/03/08 at 10:11 PM by anamericangod
I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

I remember being in your car. With this song playing, I wonder now if I scoffed at the irony. I can still see the road curving through the trees and the mountains. I know where we were, I remember how you looked how you smelled how you smiled. You had driven for miles just so we could get out of town, to get away from everyone else. It was one of those days where it felt like it went on endlessly, and yet when it was done we wondered "Is that all, is it over already?" The air was frozen, late fall was giving way to the silence and and monochromatic embrace of winter.

Why this memory has stuck with me, I haven't a clue. Years have passed, but it took up residency somewhere deep inside my brain and it comes out surprisingly often. We have completely exited each other's lives and it seems like that is truly how it was meant to be. It's not you that I miss, althought to say that I don't miss you would be a lie. The feeling that has stayed with me since that day is something I cannot forget. It was a feeling of being complete. A feeling of being part of something bigger than myself without even having to do anything. Things were right. Things were good things were good things were so good. This sincerely could have been the last time I felt happy.

Was it love? I know I fucked things up terribly, but for that moment, was it love?

It terrifies me to consider the notion that this experience is lost and gone forever. Was it really that fleeting? Please say no. I need it again, I need to feel that again. I have no idea when or where or how or who or anything.

People come and go, but things like that, they stay with you. They make you who you are.

There are instances in life that parallel the songs we love so accurately it is nothing short of remarkable.

It is nothing short of beautiful.

Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home.

"do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter.
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