Soft Sounds

Headlights permeate the glass

Identical to water

Flooding into her vacant room.

Sitting there, she hears

Voices whisper,

The sounds dancing and twirling

off the white walls.

She takes a seat

Left hand rooted into her bed

As if a she were a thorn in someone's foot;

Stuck.

Her right hand extends in search

Of her record player.

Liquid music begins to hum from the speaker.

Only the isolated cave of her bedroom

Can bring her comfort

In the midst of her life's constant

Lack of exhilaration.

Her fingers kiss the folded edges of

Past love notes

As she eases back into muddled thoughts

Conceptual hues begin to tint her mind

Dripping with consciousness.

With Tender and rich textures

She closes her eyes

Takes a breath

sighs

knowing she wouldn’t make it through this life

without the soft echoes of music.