The Melody

The music speaks, muted and half-remembered
talking of you, of me, of the never was us
the projector in my mind rolling on a loop
the pictures fading, dim with age
yellow with regret

The never-never future without you
keeps me up nights
sweet young things flirting
smiling and dancing
heedless of the dangers
careless of their souls
while Death sings his courting song
crooning love and passion

One misspoken word
one unalterable step
the broken past and the breakable future
colliding in the melody that endlessly repeats

In The Past

The trouble
with taking a trip
down memory lane
is that nothing is ever where you left it.

Old haunts change from coffee bar
to tanning salon
to abandoned building, left rotting
with all your old selves inside.

Old friends metamorphosize
into weird shapes
transform themselves
in ways you cannot understand
become unrecognizable.

Things that used to offer security
are worn to tatters
no longer support the weight
of your fears.

You're left standing, mouth agape
trying to remember when you saw them last
because in the past, everything was fine
familiar
normal
comfortable.

When it comes down to it
you're better off hunkering down with your memories
instead of looking for a connection in the here and now
everything is different and nothing you do or say or think
will return any of it to what it used to be.