Before I left,
he wrapped his arms around me
like time didn’t exist.
It was just us in a blur of young love,
lost in each other’s
pastel embrace.
His warmth sunk into my bones
and I couldn’t say goodbye.
Letting go,
even for seven days,
left my heart with torment.
The last sight of his brown eyes
as I shut the car door
made the steering wheel go cold
under my palms.
But his silhouette walking inside
made it harder to drive away.
I didn’t want to go home
for days without his crisp voice,
the way his cheeks dust rose
as he chuckles over my giggle.
I craved him and our cotton candy love.
I approached a stoplight,
sobbed into the steering wheel,
wanting to go back to the time
when I was in his arms and
each thought drifted away.
Every time I left his house
a part of my heart was forgotten.
I kept leaving my love there
and drove away in tears.
I was lost in the thoughts
of him beside me trying to mess
with the radio.
I remembered us driving together,
his hand resting on my leg,
and we laughed as if we didn’t only
meet eight years ago.
We’ve always known each other.
I gripped the steering wheel
as tears cradled my eyes.
I miss him. I miss him.
I can still smell him in my clothes,
feel his arms around me,
his candy aroma trapped in the car seats
but he isn’t here. I’m driving home alone.
Madison Culpepper is a senior at Central Connecticut State University and is 22 years old. She currently lives in Farmington, Connecticut. She studied creative writing at the Greater Hartford Academy of the Arts and now studies Psychology with a minor in creative writing. She won two silver keys and one gold key in the Scholastic Writing Awards, is published by Fictional Cafe, Long Shot Books, and hopes to publish a book someday.
