Where Stories Falter

We used to speak in shorthand,

now we spell it out

Two heavy shadows pacing,

trying to outrun the doubt

It isn't some betrayal,

some dramatic spark of fire

Just the steady quiet rust of a broken copper wire (ahhhh)

What survives when the dust has cleared away?

What remains of the words we used to say?

When the story that we built Stops matching up with how we

live (what survives?)

Distance is a quiet thief,

it takes a week at first

Then months of empty spaces where the letters got reversed

I'm walking back the long way under cold streetlights

Wondering if we're just ghosts in each other's nights

What survives when the dust has cleared away?

What remains of the words we used to say?

When the story that we built Stops matching up with how we

live (tell me what survives)

When the facts don't match the story (hummmm)

When the truth is all we have