I changed the playlist to the melodies that have always defined me because I refuse to lose myself to melodic romantic whimsies because it speaks in the language of music, my old lover whom I let get away.
You brought her back to me Sending me song after song after song after song and I fell for you to some catchy tune implying I am the Yoko Ono to your Lennon.
I used to tell people I like the Beatles because it made me feel cool; a musical diamond in the rough. But now I tell people I listen to Sara Bareilles whose every breath is dedicated to telling the patriarchy to fuck off.
But also, thank you patriarchy without your pressure I would have never become the diamond I shine despite all your attempts to dull me.
With every song you send me I become high on what you peddle. Don’t worry, I’ll always come down, hard. But I’ll hit the ground Running a marathon for a cause.
The cause being my terrified heart, threatening to collapse as it trembles in my ribcage in pure panic because with every lyric you weaken my knees and I want to fall right into you.
If I listen to every song you slide my way like a smooth talking bartender I’ll get drunk and vulnerable and the universe will choose that moment to attack. To shatter me to pieces that I’m too tired to pick up.
But then I remember that the universe does not care what I do So I’ll listen to every damn love song anyway.