in parentheses

I like you like a song.

The kind of song that runs right through me at first listen,

it sounds so good.

There are flawless harmonies, igniting rhythms, spirit-moving lyrics,

standing ovation-worthy vocals all working together,

working so hard so they cannot be

forgotten.

A song I’d catch on the radio, half-way through,

disappointing me to my core,

but making me cherish those last few bars even more.

And I can’t wait to hear it again,

hear that pounding beat,

that rise and fall of that sweet melody.

The kind of song that ignores my ears and

settles in my brain

so that I don’t just know it,

I become it.

I start to hear it on the radio too often,

changing channels only to find it on another,

and playing from the top this time.

I hear it on the street,

walking to my car,

reading the paper,

falling asleep.

I used to love that song, every part, beginning, end, and

in between.

I listened over and over,

catching new lyrics I misinterpreted all the times before,

little nuances in familiar notes- I thought there’d always be a reason,

one more reason to listen.

And there was until there wasn’t,

until I didn’t need another reason to listen to the same song only with new ears,

expecting the song to change

or to become new all over again.

But I know it now, like the back of my hand,

or the taste of my teeth,

and there is nothing new

to know

or hear

or like

in you.