We drove through the night,

headlights carving tunnels in the dark,

dreaming of a future
too far away to touch.
Distracted,

reckless,

young, and high,

I made a mistake.
The tires screamed,

gravel split beneath us,

and the dirt road rose to meet our fate.

For a heartbeat I wondered,
what does death feel like?

Is it silence?

Is it cold?
Then reality struck:
you were in my car.

My hands tightened around the wheel,

my foot slammed the brake,

as I spoke into the chaos,

“You’re okay, I have you.”
But inside,
I had nothing,
not even myself.
We sat in the hush of survival,

hearts pounding in the dark.

And when the car crept forward again,

we carried a new bond,

a thread unbroken,

forever lasting.