An old gym bag crammed tight in the trunk

An old gym bag, crammed tight in the trunk,

faded and dusty, a memory sunk.

I open it up, a whiff of regret,

expired protein, reminders I’d rather forget.

The zipper creaks open, revealing the past,

workout clothes linger, intentions that didn’t last.

Yet there it sits, like a ghost in the back,

a burden, a token of dreams off the track.