Lost Words

"There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth,
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt,
It's still a little hard to say what's going on."

From before the gravel
ground too deep
From before a year
crunched beneath my feet
and sighed,
I can't remember what you said.
Now it's gone,
soaked with another man's
words pretending to be mine
and thrown out with the newspaper.