It's like going backwards

I can hear

the intricate plucking of guitar strings

reverberating through the world;

the sound of the bass,

grumbling under the melody

and then a clock

ticking away

as it puts more time 

we can't get back

behind us. 

Time goes backwards 

in the reflection of the mirror;

the music begins to play louder

and it is lost on the winds of the storm 

which batter the roof we lie under.

We move backwards, slowly

into a time where our hands part

and we don't share the bed.

Suddenly our eyes grow strange 

to the sight of each other

and I barely know you and you

barely know me.

Moving further back,

the music becomes manic and it plays,

the sounds of drums and guitars colliding

while we don't. We see each other

on the far end of the bar and it's like

we never knew each other. It's like

we couldn't see each other.

We pay for our own drinks 

and share no contact as the music continues

and the alcohol rushes to our heads.

Then suddenly, we're gone

down different paths, drunkenly

stumbling home to an empty house

an empty bed and we lay our heads

to sleep away the music

and the thoughts of each other.