A Golden Seat
I looked in my passenger seat today
I was listening to Fluorescent Adolescents by Arctic Monkeys.
She would've loved that song if we played in my car.
The car with my speakers, the ones that only go up to 60 instead of 100.
The car with my seats, the ones with permanent stains from pervious owners.
The car with my A/C, the one that smells if you blow it too low
The car with my voice, the one off key singing along with her.
But, now I sit in the darkness of the night.
Trying to convince myself that if I listen to the lyrics enough, it will make the seat less empty.
But that was her seat.
The seat she sat in as we blasted songs down the highway.
The seat she sat in and make new stains of coffee she accidentally spilled on herself.
The seat she sat in as she twisted the heat up all the way, ignoring the sweat running down my face.
The seat she sat in as she sang every note as if she held each one in the palm of her hand.
She would even stop sometimes and scream at me saying, "ooh that was good, I hit a higher note this time".
Its still her seat, even if she isn't in it.