he wears headphones.
she wears ear buds.
his music leaks from his ears,
like tea sloshing over a cup,
over a harbour,
over a pair of lips that deem laughing is more important than drinking.
he listens to
trumpets,
trombones,
and percussion.
loud and important and impossible to go unnoticed.
her music is quiet and soft,
out of fear of being overheard.
it is not unlike a music box; quiet from the outside, full of warmth on the inside.
she listens to love songs:
sweet chocolate melodies accompanied by piano,
by soaring violins,
by sultry saxophone,
by a crooning clarinet.
she is often overlooked, but take a close look and discover
she holds jems and pretty things.
. . . they fit.
YOU ARE READING
Lonely Thoughts
Poetry~technically, every day is leg day when you're running away from your problems~ ((alternatively titled: please enjoy my laughable poetry.))
