Music is Personal

“Without music, life would be a mistake.” 
– Friedrich Nietzsche

I remember

nights towards the end of summer,
we blast Fleetwood Mac out of 
big stereo speakers and 
dance around the coffee table while 
singing along at the top of our lungs.
All the sliding glass doors are be open and 
for that moment
it feels like summer will never end.

We made playlists.
It was my idea.
He told me he was great at making mix CDs
back in the day
so naturally I asked for one.
He agreed only if
I made one for him.
This was on my way to the airport.

I’m freaking out a little
because music is personal.
Sharing music is intimate.
What if he doesn’t like it?

But once I started,
it became fun.
I had my playlist finished by the time I landed.

Suddenly, those old songs 
meant new things.
The songs from the year we made that first bet,
the bet he lost.
Although, I think in the end 
we both won.

Both playlists ended with the same song.
No such thing.
Modern romance.
We have a problem.
You’re sneaking into my space.
The space that I spent these last 80 days reclaiming.
But I like having you there.
I want you to be there
and that terrifies me.
Because what does that mean?


floating and falling
all at once.

starting and stalling
at the same time.

placation and provocation
in perfect unison.

magical and miserable
in equal amounts.

I can’t get a grip.
I don’t have the words.

I hate you.


How can I draw a map
if I’m afraid to look up
at the new landscape?
You can’t.

How do I embrace the new
if I’m having trouble
letting go of the old?
You don’t.

How am I going to move forward
if I’m secretly wishing
I could go back?
You won’t.

At times like this
my mom says to me,
“You know what you need to do.”
She’s right.


Maybe we’re all just trying to connect.

That’s why communication is such a big deal.

To connect, we need to clear the way.

So that ideas/ thoughts/ feelings can flow between two people freely.

Clear the way of clutter.

All the clutter that doesn’t matter.

fancy dinners,
expensive wine,
fast cars,
designer drugs,
pretty faces,
small talk.

Take it all away and what are we left with?

…hold please.