Headphones glued to my ears
plugged into your words on eternal replay
crystal and sharp, it cuts
deep and overflowing with misplaced regret,
as you sang to me,
breaking shards off this already hollowed existence.
Funny how your fingers
look frail on the fretboard
like they’re not strong enough to hold a note,
yet you still play me
like a madman on a wailing Gibson Epiphone,
shredding riffs off a tune
hauntingly beautiful but excruciatingly overplayed.
And as this song loops back around, I realize
I’m still the only fool listening
and accepting your lies.
***Written on 14 July 2014.