Bow Ties

I used to be. Used to know. Where I was wrong. Where I was right.

Everything was paperback. Pre-printed price. Easy to read. Every paragraph knew where the metaphor was going.

Old jeans easily remember how to fit.

Now it's just a decision I make based on how hard it is to fall asleep.

I used to hear the music. Now it's just the sound.

Emptying bagppipes. Spitting out failing melodies.

And I hardly listen. To the sounds they make. So much forgetting still to do.

She said she was gone, but I didn't believe her. Because that's what people say. Especially when they want you to notice that they're leaving.

We are tangled in each other. Trapped in the knots.