When It Was

There are memories that smell of petrol, the heat of a bonfire and something sticky and sweet, like a summer romance that didn't last until autumn. When the windows fogged up not from the cold, but from the breath of two people who thought it would last ‘forever.’ Now these lines contain other people's names, other people's hands, other people's songs in the same headphones. And it seems like it's time to let go, but memory is a stubborn thing, rewinding the tape until the heart gives up. The sad irony is that everything has remained in its place: the road, the music, even the wind is the same. Only in the frame - it's not you anymore.