August 23, 2014

Rewind.

You make me want to turn back time, reset the sun, reverse the moon's tide.

You make me wish I had a time machine so your car would pull back into my driveway and you would knock on my door again. 

Rewind the movie so I can feel your arms around me. Rehold my hand, I want to hear you tell me I am beautiful once again.

Relive that moment at the threshold of my front door to see that question in your eyes, that you want more than a kiss goodnight. 

Replay that song that we danced to, retie the knots of our bodies, remind me of your weight and the way you sigh. Untouch your skin, unkiss your lips; just so I can do it over and over again.

You make me want to put my clothes back on, to lie on your chest once more and listen to your heart beat backwards. 

If I could turn back the dial, your phone won't ring, you wouldn't have to go back to warm her bed. I'd stop these wheels right at the moment before you made an excuse we both didn't need, pull on your clothes and that hurried kiss goodbye.

You make me want to hold the sands of time, to pause and rewind;

To the past few hours when I pretended you were mine.