I heard you singing on the radio about the ways you used to know me. I wonder if anyone else knows when they hear how it “could be.” It makes think about the heat and speed up when I drive. It makes me wish it weren’t December and that you’d go back to where you hide. Most of all it makes me miss you and makes me unstitch where I had grown and makes me wonder what it feels like to be left out there all alone. So I took a left onto the one and drove just because and drove up through the winding hills to where we used to talk and learn to love. I turned up the car stereo to hear your voice loud and clear and pretend like you weren’t in another life and like you could still be here. And it got me thinking about the distance and the time we take to leave and about the last time that I saw you and what we chose to both believe.
Published by Erin Rose Belair
I am multi-genre writer specializing in travel, ad-copy, and nonfiction prose. A recent graduate with my MFA I am spending my new found time rambling around the world, practicing yoga, and searching for the best salad ever. View all posts by Erin Rose Belair