Like the car you dumped at the junk yard, you left me an empty shell of what I once was.

You grabbed your suitcase and emptied all of me into it as soon as you found a vessel more flashy to carry your soul.

My tires weren't brand new but my tread still hugged your road with great traction.

My speakers crackle with age but I still played your favorites at your request.

I have rust and some dents, but my glass was clear enough for you to see the path ahead.

I may idle rough, and my exhaust is loud when you test my pedals with force, but I could've gotten you where you wanted to go.

You partially lifted my decals, left the burnt-out air freshener dangling, dancing on the mirror, and the lighter you lost is still in my pocket.

But I have a full tank of gas and someone new's got the key.