I am a truck,
traveling on this open road called love.
You are the point of origin,
But the direction is uncertain.
Is it a circle,
and ends with you?
Or if I’m astray and heading towards
a dead-end street,
Will I find my cul-de-sac and turn around,
back to you?
Do avenues await me?
Do I get to speed up on the freeways?
Regardless,
If this is linear,
This is one-way.
This is endless.
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InkHeart Poetry 