Smoke and Asphalt

White smoke drifts like slow regret,

lifting from the cracked hood’s breath.

The engine’s cough, a ragged song

that sputters out beneath bruised dusk.

The driver leans in, eyes hard, flat,

searching where the silent bones lie.

The road cracked, cold beneath tired wheels,

a fracture spread in the dying light.

I watch the car give up its fight,

a brittle breath against fading sky.

And somewhere inside the gravel dust,

a heartbeat stalls, unsure if it’ll rise.

Smoke curls and fades, like promises

left too long to break and burn.