Me and You

Will you listen to music sung only by instruments with me forever?

I mean the type of music I imagine our great great grandmothers and grandfathers once swayed to, back and forth with their first loves.

You know the ones—I played them for you once or twice, do you remember?

I played them and asked if you, too, thought the wind instruments sounded like

they were singing. If only we could just decipher the words, I said.

You smiled and nodded and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead, tucking it behind

my ear with the back of your fingers,

and told me to close my eyes. You said, Just listen, you know the words.

Will you fold me in close and piece together the words with me, infinitely?

Please oh please say yes and tell me that

the only music you crave listening to

is the music playing while you’re holding me

amid your arms and against the space in your chest where your heart resides,

spinning around an endless room

dancing in and throughout and around the love we sculpted

from our pain.