Cars, Cars, Cars

Squealing sounds and tire marks on pavement.

The loud cry of despair as she pulled away.

Her anger washed over her, betrayed.

The white Malibu spun its gold rims.

She hated them; he insisted on them.

Those reminders followed her for months.

Finally, she pushed that out of her life,

Trading in the keys for a 2004 Solara.

Now that car sits in the drive, 18 years later.

Still the symbol of her freedom although aged.

A reminder that she’s strong enough to be on her own,

Should there ever be a time she’s alone in the future.

She wonders, what does my future hold?

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