Poem: Broken Record
I remember the melody to my favorite songs. And the words that spoke to me most. I would hum the songs in your ear when you laid next to me. You were my perfect love song. Something about you made my body become a cello and every night I'd let you pluck my strings and play a song for everyone to hear. My body was your very own personal orchestra. You were the baton conducting each and every note being played. You made me feel insufficient like I was just simply a single note in a song written by Beethoven. I was the only note you loved love playing when it was convenient. In the confinement of your own mind I was the single note that spun around and around and eventually whenever you spoke that note was the only thing the world heard. I could bare to let anyone hear your voice because you were mine. At times I wanted to cut your throat open and destroy your voice box just so no one would ever fall in love with the one thing I was falling rapidly for. At this point I was probably falling faster than Alice. This love was a song that I could listen to all day and never get tired of. And your voice was music to my ears. You were my favorite love song and the best parts to all the songs I adore. But what will happen when the beat stops, the instruments stop playing, and you leave the stage putting me in a case making me wait for you to come play me the next day?
