The wheel runs cold, hands brittle as braking; the road I am taking is making me old. Time slows down, traveling backwards, examining your words for traces of sound. I'm out of the car, stumbling forward, scared of the door and what could be found.
And I've been here before. And I've been here before.
I know the scene well. I have dreamt of it often, but time couldn't soften the pain it would bring. I see you there. Your hair is a mess. It was always your smile that I loved best. You look kind of scared to see me here. You shed a tear and I do the rest.
And I've been here before. And I've been here before
