A/N: So I wrote a poem. About a car. Here it is.
Baby
She feeds the road with gasoline
Feeds their souls with the soft, steady purr of her engine
And the grind of tires against asphalt.
0000
She holds their secrets and their bloodstains
Smeared across the seats and stuffed into
the empty spaces between two brothers
Who have shared their lives together.
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She guides their tired hearts through countless storms
and over endless potholes
Battered roads and battered souls,
It makes no difference to her. She takes it all,
Bears her burden without complaint or resentment
0000
Because she is a warrior, a faithful soldier
And she obeys her orders without question,
Shifting just right under her driver's touch,
Moving with the fluidity of an extra limb.
0000
Her miles grow with the passing days
Rims spiraling up dust
That will be cleaned off at the next rest stop
By sure hands that sweep away her would-be stains
And pat her hood with an affection reserved for family.
0000
She is well looked after, even after all these years
Her unfailing loyalty repaid in full
By changed oil and a shining finish
That gleams even against the darkest nights
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Tires churn beneath her, forever moving
As long as her tank is on the other side of empty
Her belly always full
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She shines like obsidian,
Sunlight glancing off of her sleek black paint
And dancing across her dashboard
Like fireflies on a summer night.
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Stretched across her seats
Are the ones she loves the most
Bickering across her gearshift
As the trees blur before her headlights.
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She starves the sun with her will,
Burns the world beneath her rubber
As laughter and conversation become trapped
Amongst her many memories.
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She is a bed and she is a weapon
A place for storage and rest
And war
But above all else,
She is home.
Thanks for reading. Reviews are fantastic and so are you.