My mind is a record skipping 
Old songs and broken dialogue 
Her laughter in the kitchen 
Her silence in the hallway 
The apology I never heard 
The goodbye I never gave 

I replay scenes in slow motion 
Rewind and rewatch every sigh 
Was this where it started to end? 
Was I too much, or not enough? 
Did she feel the tremor too or was it just me? 
Turning love over in my hands 
Like a stone I can’t put down 

Night keeps pressing in 
Questions blooming like wild vines 
I bargain with ghosts 
Promise tomorrow I’ll let it rest 
But morning comes 
And the ache stays 
Some songs don’t end; 
they just keep skipping in your head.