all the self-care I ever needed was sitting right there,
in the space in-between,
while the light beamed,
& in that moment, everything, really actually,
mornings were our time in a way different from that of the night.
there was more laughter and visions of the future.
conversations at a normal register.
I always woke up late.
night was ours too.
well, really yours if I’m being honest.
live as if you had music notes running up and down your spine.
couldn’t help but put on a show,
no shucking though,
cuz this was all you.
music was always that thing we’d come back to.
a laying out of discographies at an hour half-past 12.
4 am in Philadelphia,
it felt like hell.
hell because I knew you would never let yourself be mine,
even though I was only falling faster,
I downloaded all the songs you played,
so I could make a playlist,
and play it whenever,
I wanted, to make myself feel worthless.
caught up in something I could never know was real.
going through the motions,
trying not to feel.
I want you to be rough.
with my spirit though?
I wish you’d be less tough.
be less tough,
and a little more gentle.
a lot less fickle.
you were, a slick verse over a tight beat I never saw coming.
a song I thought I wouldn’t like,
a score I thought I could only hate.
a sheet of music I couldn’t quite read,
never stopped playing.