“You got your long hair now,
it’s nice—I need to get my drink”
and that was the last voice
I play on repeat in my head
right before you left me—again

as I felt the warmth rolling down
on my cheeks
when we met last night at 2am
after 7 months
of our goodbye war
and I knew
that time about you are frozen
just like the wound that I kept
open