Anatomical Drift

[Verse 1]
The last good photo was on a Sony Cybershot,
propped on a brick outside The Salisbury pub.
The cold iron of the fire escape bit through my jeans,
and your laugh was the only honest thing on the whole damn street.

[Verse 2]
Your signal drops out past the Truro turn-off.
I watch the bars collapse, a slow controlled cough.
"You're getting that accent," you said on the phone last week.
Just cataloguing the rate of the tectonic creep.

[Bridge]
Sedimentary silence builds between the calls.
Each unsent message, another layer of shale on the walls.
I study the fracture like a land surveyor would,
mapping the distance where a friendship stood.

[Outro]
We're not broken, just a different stratum now.
Your name's a watermark on a map I folded wrong somehow.