The hundred in the hands

Empty stations

The hundred in the hands
I listen
To empty stations
And the sound
Of you there
An echo
Left on the dial
Paused
In between
Midnight broadcasts

Midnight broadcasts
Your voice like white noise.

You say, “we are passing away,”
I know
It’s only goodbye
You say, “we are passing away,”
But, I won’t miss you
I won’t miss you.

I listen
To empty stations
And the sound
Of you there
An echo
Left in the tunnel
On a train
That never comes.

Midnight broadcasts
Your touch like red rust.

You say, “we are passing away,”
I know
It’s only goodbye
You say, “we are passing away,”
But I won’t miss you
I won’t miss you.

Your voice like white noise
I won’t miss you
I won’t miss you
Your voice like white noise
I won’t miss you
I won’t miss you
Your voice like white noise
A kiss in the tunnels
I won’t miss you
I won’t miss you
I won't miss you.

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