The headlights carved her dying scream,
Through shattered glass and twisted chrome,
Each night revives our fractured dream,
Where memory feeds a catacomb.

The crash site lingers in rust and rain,
Each bloodstain weeps with her ghost’s embrace,
Her laughter cracks the windowpane,
As the wreckage recalls her missing face.

Her presence haunts the driver’s seat,
Her murmur leaks from cracked veneer,
And though fate claimed her story incomplete,
She rides beside me, always near.

Last week I found her shattered ring,
It pulsed with heat when I drew near,
And in the dusk’s pale beckoning,
Her ghost reached out and tried to steer.

She spoke in static, faint and slow,
“Let go the dawn, forget the pain,”
But love’s a wreck that won’t let go—
It circles back through smoke and flame.

I drive the stretch where silence grew,
Where tires once wailed our tragic part,
Forever the headlights burn as two—
Like souls entwined beyond the dark.