There's something knocking at the back of my mind
and it sounds like pebbles hitting the nerves if my temporal lobe.

It's tapping in morse code and I can almost hear it
singing all those songs I was meant to forget.
They're slower though—acoustic and remixed
to the dying beat of all our memories.

If I focus on it long enough
I could probably pinpoint where it's coming from,
but I know I'm just choosing not to.
If I focus on it hard enough,
I could probably repaint its rainbow splatters on a canvas,
but I'm just choosing not to.

If I focus on it long enough,
I might just hear your voice again—
coated sweet nothings in nothing but syrup,
but I'm just choosing not to because

you never chose me, darling.

Even until now, we flinch at the sight of each other
rather than letting the light consume us like all the times before.

And maybe I'm just mad at the stars for not giving me some sort of sign
or godforsaken comet to warn me from falling for you the first time,
or the second,
or over and over again

Because it's not fair that you've still got my head spinning
when I cut every single piece of red thread that tied us together.
It's not fair that you've got me second guessing my present
because of the ashes and rotting debris of the past.

There's something knocking at the back of my mind.
It's tapping in morse code
about all the questions you left hanging in mid-air.
The thumping is getting louder and I can't—

I can't make it stop.

gd