My writing: "Long drive ahead" By Ben Goode 2014 (c)

In my mind you seemed like a silent passenger in a car, your company seemed almost as futile. 
Perhaps you were never really there. And if you were, did you want to be? Are you real or just my imagination? 
Have I just placed a shadow of you where you'd never realistically be? Did I expect too much? 
You seemed to want me. But didn't want to admit it. Love. Only for who I am? 
We were never going the same direction, but you just seemed to humour me. Stillness saturated my numbing brain, with endless questions. In my mind you sat like an artless statue. 
No purpose. Enigmatic. But to what end? What for? And what did it mean? And as if in a teasing twist. Or to deepen the plot of your mystery your hair caught the wind. 
You had been there. I knew it. As did you. 
Your eyes had briefly shifted to mine, as they had when I kissed you. And you seemed to see right through me. 
But what did you really see? As you seemed to wonder why I drove at all. You didn't seem to care where I was going anyway. You mostly just stared relentlessly out the window. 
You seem to want to be in another place. Another time perhaps, but not with me. You'd been in other cars. And they raced by gazing at you like a prize. A race. But did I ever enter? And why do they not even see my number? I thought I was first. 
You never discouraged them. A smile. A polite denial. 
Not answerable. But I hated those drivers. I had to stop and set you free. Back onto the highway of your hitchhiking ways. 
Perhaps never a permanent passenger for anyone. But that is how you liked it. And I still had a long drive ahead, alone again.