What changes?
Sometimes, when I stay up late at night,
I can almost hear your voice
beyond the cold wind against the window
and the buzzing lamp beside me.
And you’re telling me a story of a happier time
that I wish I could remember.
Most times, when I’m awake late at night,
I hear your voice wrecking
inside my head, hidden in the silence
of things you could never say.
But I’d rather cling to a sad thought
than never hear your voice at all.
