Writing, writing, writing, always writing
I’m writing down these facts which come undone
The facts: my past is coming undone to re-open
I walked away, but did I come back for this moment?
You walked away; why are you returning to this moment?
These facts aren’t really facts at all today
New decisions come and wash old facts away
I’m not sure I want the thoughts which will come tomorrow
What am I to do, think, feel, say, or run to?
I see an answer in which everyone gets hurt
If we were to drop it, we should have left it alone
So badly, I don’t want to, but want to, do this some more
Why is this coming back? Maybe it’s been here all along
But I don’t want to hurt you- or you me any more
Must we always hurt someone?
I can’t fix this: it’s spinning-
A scratched c-d recording of what we’ve left unsaid
You can’t fix this any more than ever before
The scratches, scrapes, lines, breaks, and lies remain
Stopping. the c-d we need to hear from playing
We need to say what we remember
This time because it can’t be fixed
–Written by Sandy Heights
Image by <a href=”https://pixabay.com/users/fotobias-30050/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=101792″>Zdeněk Tobiáš</a> from <a href=”https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=101792″>Pixabay</a>