Colors in Slow Motion

Two thirteen

on the bedside clock

Watching tail-lights smear across the block

Yellow, red,

then washed in blue (shhhh)

I keep rewinding

what you said

A quiet static inside my head

And the clock

is frozen

in place

Still awake for a conversation that already ended

Still reaching for a word

that we never mended (ahhhh)

The headlights fade on the kitchen floor

I don't expect a knock on the door

But I still look

(I still look)

Just the static and the haze Watching the lines bleed away (away)