It hit me like fireworks, or maybe like blistering skin,
The push you didn’t know you took toward the worst part.
The angle wasn’t quite right and the song’s lyrics
Meant too much. Turn down the volume. Not yet.
I dreamt of you but it didn’t look like you;
Dreams are always talking about signs.
I’m sorry that I dragged you here and
I’m sorry that my voice hasn’t sounded the same in months.
Always hushing me before the ends of my sentences,
Always not wanting to know what happens next.
Your face holds the expression I long to hold onto,
And you’re right, when you talk about me–
All the ice in your voice,
Loudness and echoes of softness.
I’m lost in the language of your mind.
