she slowly took back her form in the passenger seat, windows down where she belongs. she wears streetlight as her foundation, opposing traffic white light plays well on her face. she’s stunning, loveliness in her own way, carrying something unmistakable, quiet calm and grace. she just has it: patience, love, discernment. longing for home, never night. not twitching or talking incessantly, not drunk or vaping, not high or cranking the volume past normal. she is set for a night drive, stone cold grace, waiting to see her child, her home, her bed. happiness comes from the sincerity of silence, never searching for life in the freebie moments the devil teases us with. she even let me love you, and that is her grace. because of it, she owns me now, and forever my soul is bound to hers.