never ending song

Eyes open,
once more
for the same day again;
we tried to change
the beat
but it eventually repeated
like a resurrected woodpecker

At the coffee table
we spoke once more
of how we met
in the last life;
the language in this place
was different though.

On and on
like a never ending song;
different musicians
and instruments

it seemed none of them
ever rehearsed

In the bedroom,
I changed the dressing
on my wound,
the bullet still lodged
too close to my heart
to remove;
the gap remained

I painted my room red
to hide the mess

I'd expire eventually,
and hope to return
with keys to an armory
while you detuned the guitars
of the band
setting up in the yard