i don’t write about it.
the music, the endless rehearsals,
the way the saxophone feels in my hands
like it’s breathing with me.
i don’t write about the late nights,
the competitions, the friendships forged
in the chaos of scales and solos.
instead, i let it live in the spaces
between my words,
where the sound lingers,
but i never let it spill onto the page.

maybe it’s because i’m scared.
scared i’ll sound like a nerd,
or that you will underestimate my potential,
or maybe that the music i love
will turn into something
i have to explain.
so i leave it unspoken,
a quiet symphony only i hear,
never written,
never shared.