Peep Show

I look back at the random words I once said:

I play them back in my head

The old role plays and flickers, theres only a few runs left

until the words that we said slowly turn up dead

The images are black white and static and if I watch closely enough
 I can feel the heat of those cold winter days, and taste the bite of the cold winter's night.

And so I listen a little closer and the images begin to speak

but all I hear are the
 decomposing memories of the words I wish I had said

your voice drifts

and so does mine

the lights go off but the sound comes on strong.
stronger it grows and my ears ring, my mind knows.

there's no mute button where my mind is going.

and there it is:

the sentence you spoke

and the words I never said:


"well maybe you talk too much"




Or maybe you listened too hard.

Maybe you listened so hard that the words I said turned into the words you thought
maybe you thought wrong with the words when we fought.
maybe you heard the words but not the meaning
maybe you should of listened as I was leaving.
maybe you shouldnt of tried so hard to keep me in bed
maybe if you had tried harder




We would still be dreaming. 



But as i wake up


I am grateful for leaving.