A Half Tank of Gas

it wasn’t much, just a map and a plan, a beat-up car and my trembling hands. you sat beside me, no second guess, smiled and said, “this is how we live best.” the highway stretched like a brand-new page, and we were lines not bound by age. with a half tank of gas, and a heart full of try, we chased down the sun across a painted sky. we didn’t need more—just us and the road, with love in the seatbelt and dreams to unload. who says you need it all to make it last? we were flying on a half tank of gas. we passed the signs of who we were, old regrets in the rearview blur. you reached for my hand, just like that, like time had folded and taken us back. no destination, no deadline to keep— just miles of maybe, wide and deep. with a half tank of gas, and the music up loud, we laughed till the weight of the world wore down. no fancy plans, no polished past— just two reckless hearts that held on fast. somehow we outran what we thought couldn’t pass— just cruising on a half tank of gas. and maybe we’ll stall, and maybe we’ll drift, but love isn’t measured by miles or gifts. it’s the ride, the silence, the songs that we sing— even when we’re running on fumes and belief. with a half tank of gas, and the night rolling in, we drove like the end was where we begin. some call it foolish, some call it fate— but darling, we just didn’t wait. we learned how to love without looking back— still moving on a half tank of gas.