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Writer's pictureVivien Yap

This Desperate Music Wound


I’ve turned you into music.

Plug in,

Press play,

And there you are.


In every syncopated beat,

hurting,

breathing,

a curt longing for

the same being.


In every melody,

weaving in and out of lyrics,

like sheet music I can never read off paper

but can always hear

off your lips.


In every line

you fill the quiet in me.


Just

don’t stop talking and

I won’t ever stop

singing.


Perhaps I have written you

into all my music.


Perhaps you have written me

into something I can never bear to leave.

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