you held me
I finally realized
and I leapt into your arms like nothing happened
but it did.

and we both pretended that if we curled in
away
but together
we could continue to grow

intertwined

but my vines were killing yours
and your roots were getting entrenched in my own
suffocating

but we held each other
pretending not to count down the seconds

and in that moment
I realized I would
never be the one that got away
I was the one you got away with
taking the money
quite literally

and i in my brilliance
ran straight into a burning house
and sat down
waiting for it to burn around me

I could just as easily
see you with your hands around my waist
as you kept me company
while i made drinks for our friends
and i triple checked my math
and you took the one
I wasn’t sure about
and said it was lovely
because
you love me
as i laugh
and we both play pretend
and i’m making
what i will come to call, the—-

writing and scribbling and scrawling down my all thoughts,
each and every
dark and sinister alley twisting in the curves and
    crevices
of my mind.
dusty, hidden corners filled with filth -
hidden by the shadows of my
    weighted self.

Sometimes, I hear a song
through someone
else’s headphones,
 too quiet to name
 but loud enough to feel.

I never ask what it is.
Letting it stay anonymous
 feels more honest.
It’s not mine.
I was just near it.

A violin behind a closed door
  in an apartment I’ll never enter.
Footsteps on an old wooden floor above me
  like a rhythm nobody meant to write.
A man humming in the metro
  not to perform,
  but because he’s alone
    and forgot the world has ears.

There are moments I’ve been completely undone
  by a melody I never fully heard.

Half of it lost to the train.
Half of it blurred by walls.
But something in me
  was tuned
    just right
      to catch what escaped.

We think music is what’s played.
But maybe it’s also what passes through
      when we weren’t looking.
      When we didn’t try to hold it.
      Or name it.
      Or own it.