Static in the Rearview

(Vinyl hiss, barely audible)

…left the porch light on…

I still drive past the house on 72nd and Pine,

Your mom’s old Civic gone, weeds in the driveway line.

Radio’s stuck on the station we swore we’d outgrow,

Static keeps talking like it’s you on the low.

I don’t text anymore, but my thumbs know the code—

Muscle memory’s cruel when the heart’s on reload.

(Whispered, close-mic)

Every red light feels like a held breath…

Every green says “keep going, forget the rest”…

Static in the rearview, fading slow,

Your voice in the white noise, won’t let go.

I’m not stuck, I’m just circling the glow—

Of a life that’s gone, but the signal still shows.

(Soft ad-lib:) …still shows…

Found your hoodie in the trunk, still smells like rain,

Wore it to the river just to feel you again.

The bench by the water got a fresh coat of paint—

They erased our initials, but the ache ain’t.

I laugh at the sky when the clouds spell your name,

Then hate myself quiet—same old game.

(Stripped, just voice + faint guitar)

I don’t want you back, I just want the version I knew—

Before the silence grew teeth and bit us in two.

If I blink too fast, maybe the frame skips ahead…

But the tape keeps rewinding to the words never said.

Static in the rearview, fading slow,

Your voice in the white noise, won’t let go.

I’m not stuck, I’m just circling the glow—

Of a life that’s gone, but the signal still shows.

(Ad-lib:) …still shows…

(Vinyl slows, warbles)

Porch light’s off now…

(Final breath:) guess I’ll keep driving.