I remember on a night out,
the butterflies and a genuine smile,
every song to another brushes off my doubts,
unconsciously engraving into my soul;
the beat, the words, the melody,
my fragile heart seems to understand the language of music.

a playlist of beginning and throughout,
will always hurt more than
a playlist played on the ending,
because to remember the good times and weep is a sweet misery.

IA