Returning to the scene of the crime
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t matter
This is the place that separated
The before
from the after
Time stood still
While we buried the bodies
Burning bridges
Ice on asphalt
‘Nothings gonna change’
With fire in your eyes
I changed my clothes
You changed your mind
No evidence remains here
No smoking gun
The ghost in the graveyard
Won’t let me run
And it feels like a fable now
A tall tale someone told
About the mistakes that we make
Before we grow up and get old
The scene of the crime
Holds no DNA
Only whispers of indiscretions
On a frigid winter day
It’s faded and grey
And it doesn’t look right
The memory of you
In the restaurant that night
I can almost convince myself
About this scene-of-the-crime…
I was never there
It was never mine
It doesn’t hurt like it should
To stand behind invisible tape
And peer upon the bodies
Of everything that was at stake
The stop sign is a tombstone
The pavement sacred ground
Because a version of me died here
And the body’s never been found
About the Creator
Christa Leigh
Why are bio boxes so hard?
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