There’s a ghost in the front seat of my car

She’s twelve, maybe thirteen

And cries as much as I do

 

She remains quiet against the music, or as I talk

With green-gray doe eyes

We watch the road intently

 

She wonders occasionally about me

She does not know I am there, or who I will be

She worries that I won’t exist

 

She doesn’t think she’ll drive the car

That her poor soul is stuck to

She doesn’t know that one day

 

She will master the chains around her neck

Or that she will own a chain

That’s always supposed to be around her neck

 

She doesn’t know what waits for her

In the next building over

She doesn’t know how long you’ve waited

 

All she knows is that she’s here

In the front seat of a car that terrifies her

But still, she wants to drive it

 

So that one day down the line

Just maybe

She’ll conquer what’s trying to kill her