he listens to his new song in his car
on repeat
as you both make your way to his apartment
he plays it again in his living room. pauses it. explains the word play.
you lay on his couch. watch him.
you love him. you like his music.
he bobs his head to his own voice deep into the night.
you have sex. you are still on the couch. both your clothes a pile on the floor.
you walk across the room naked. he is watching himself on YouTube. a show he had last month.
you pour water for yourself, orange juice for him. you tell him you wrote a new poem. he asks to hear it.
he likes a line. it’s your favorite line. he says he can put it in a song. It’s no longer yours.
you love him.
you fall asleep together. on the drive back to your home he makes plan for studio time.
it’s a phone call to a friend of his you don’t know. music stuff.
a world you’re not in.
he plays his new song again. the one he pauses and says is about you.
you smile.
you love him.
months later you are broken up
he shows up at a poetry venue you’re at
he’s with a girl
she looks nothing like you but is exactly like you
she signs up to read
it’s his song
the one that was about you, it’s about her now. you know all the words.
you sing along while she’s on stage.
you hear your line curve itself around her mouth, it’s hers now too.
you don’t love him anymore
- or so you say
