Console of my car

A picture, a mood and a deck of cards
none of them new, they don’t remind me of you
I will give them away, get on my knees and pray
that you pick up the phone, and call home
we’ll bitch about my mother, we’ll chuckle together
I know I am trying too hard,
but you understand
you’ve known me for a while
you’ve known what goes on
behind the locked doors
and the shaded windows
time tends to get away
and a life is defined
by lost and found things
in the console of my car.

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