Alone in a crowded bar
with nothing but the
ringing in my ears, I
can finally hear myself think.

Drunk off an invisible high
of every lyric falling off my tongue.
Dozens of other pairs of sneakers
sticky checkered dancefloor
a roar of us singing a song they wrote
back at them.

The bass kick like an echo in my bones
reverberating through me as if
I’ve carried this beat
every day of my life.

I once heard that no two people
hear the same song.
How many people in this bar
had their heart broken to
the tune of a song I loved?

I biked home, humid summer
sweat dripping off my nose onto the
pavement I’m leaving behind, hurriedly
I wondered if I was being
rinsed clean.

I went to a Lydia concert a few weeks ago and still think about it now. A bar filled with a…

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