Driving on the road with you;
But that you - I'm not sure who that is anymore.
We used to travel, laugh, and kiss on those seats,
Now it's nothing but a vast, endless sea.
Endless, though also limited,
The people who I love, by them, it's inhabited.
-if I'm honest, I still miss you
Sometimes I feel like I lost one driver's glove,
And on those seats I often felt a thing called love.
Love, by any means, can come in many forms,
Let it be wild, wrong, mutual, or going against the norms.
Driving is the only time, when I feel home,
The night, the lights, the talks, that's when I feel unalone.
-one day I hope I start hating you
At last, finally I can write about our affair,
Our last talk ended with these thoughts: it's not fair.
My head is full of shit, I want to fuck up everything,
Yet they keep telling me I just need a fling.
I'm trembling, crying, only asking how,
Was this then, or is this now?
-not because you deserve it
It doesn't matter: I still feel that every night,
You did what you had to, that doesn't make it right.
At least for me: you broke my trust, but not my pride,
I'm becoming a better me, it's been one hell of a ride.
The only thing that's missing is you,
Though not specific, but someone new.
-when will this finnally end?
