the tangled headphones in my pocket
are my mind
truly no sound is coming through
though I know it's supposed to
it's not receiving signals
and I know that maybe I should try
to fix this
but I don't want a heartbroken song to play if i do
you left my mind a mess
a fucked up mess
and like the headphones in my pocket,
I'll have to start from the beginning
to untangle
and so I hold the piece in my hand
that connects my headphones to a source–
what had connected me to you,
what should be connecting me
to the world
the signals,
the sounds.
I hold it in my hand,
and reluctantly
I lace it back through
all the little knots
and watch them come undone—
the first time I met you,
your red umbrella in the rain,
wet hair
and that dumb smile,
meeting your mother,
and how your sister is nothing like you-
until I hold the wires in my hand,
kind of crinkled and bent,
wearing away in the middle,
and hesitantly I plug them into my phone,
and place the pieces in my ears.
but I don't press play on the music,
not yet.
