It’s a mix

Do you remember? When Casually dressed in that practised nonchalance you’d slip a tape into their hand with awkward shrugs and sentences that were shot with holes (of all the things you couldn’t say) but y’know.  It’s cool. It’s all cool. 
It’s just some tunes you, err, thought, uhm, they might like.
And as you walked away, they never did see the streamers of string, frazzled and taut, that lead from the tape to your heart circumventing to the deeper, the darker, patient pools within.
You never told them….
That you’d be sat waiting.  
Toes dipped in moonlight.  Soul trapped in headlights.
Contemplating them.
Contemplating you.
In that beautiful agony.
It’s just some tunes.
That they might like to hear.
A key. 
To the inside of you.
They never knew that you stopped breathing as you walked away.
They’d find you, between the music and the words.


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