this wasn't our song,
until it was,
until all of them were,
until there was no metaphor appropriate enough to describe the feeling of desperately missing you and us.
until you left me on the ground unfolding our memories like wrinkly fading wallet photos
until I realize once more that you aren't the same and we aren't the same
until I realize that again I'm writing drafts and not sending them
until our song comes on again
and then I skip it.