Disappearing Ink
Chris Koza
The shadows sink into the hills
The fences go on forever
In my hands I'm turning over
A bracelet that she wore
But she won't wear it anymore
The truck stops all start to look the same
I swear I saw that chain smoking lady again
Keep on moving I think I'm good for
A hundred miles more
Could things ever be how they were before?
A scent left on a sweater
Stuffed inside a dresser
A Polaroid that slips
Underneath your eyes
Pieces of different puzzles
Mixed up in the same box
And thrown into the blue
