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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Our Bones Remember”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
I forgot your voice. I can't picture your face without a photo. I don't miss you like I used to. But my bones still flinch when your name floats near. They crack in the same places you used to touch. They remember the weight of your hand. The rhythm of your breath when you slept too close. The bruise of laughter you left in my spine. It’s not longing. Not anymore. It’s residue. A chemical trace I can’t rinse clean. They told me grief is a mind game. That heartbreak’s a ghost you can banish with time and distance. But time can’t touch what was buried deeper. My ribcage still reacts like you might walk through the door. My shoulders tense at songs I thought I killed. Even in silence, I hear you humming under my skin. We moved on. We got out. We became strangers. But beneath all that— our bones still speak. In secret. In code. In a language they refuse to forget.
Lyrics
I forgot the sound of your voice But not the echo in my bones Your name no longer leaves my lips But lives inside these silent tones My skin forgets, but marrow knows Where every faded heartbeat goes Our bones remember what we hide The way we loved, the way we died We moved on, but not beneath Where every loss still bares its teeth You touched me once, and I still twitch Like memory is in the stitch They say it's past, but my bones ache With every step I didn’t take Time forgot, but I did not You’re written in my every thought Our bones remember, buried deep The vows we broke, the love we keep No ghost, no god, no flesh or skin Just what remains Of what had been
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