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 hurts
If we were to drop it, we should have left it alone
So badly, I don’t want to, but want to, do this anymore
Why is this coming back? Maybe it’s been here all along
But I don’t want to hurt you or you me once again
Must we always hurt someone?
I can’t fix this: it’s spinning-
A scratched record 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 vinyl 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
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