slipping in

she hears the knock that catches her off guard…
scrambling to finish gluing her heart back together
“who’s there?” she asks quietly…
“music,” answers her bard
she sighs…
she thinks…
always music…
she laughs…

it was like air slipping in through a crack
as she sat like a carved statue of herself…
listening…gracefully...her head
tentatively turned back
the introduction was engaging…
the bass deep; guitar complex…
maybe she did
maybe she didn’t
want, just a little bit more?
but intrigued she moved – very slowly,
towards the handle of the door…

every time her heart smiled it yelled
baby please don’t let yourself get hurt
but every time she breathed
she thought my god baby
it can’t possibly get worse

she’d laid her heart too many times
on a table with a cheap garage sale price
at least maybe this time
maybe, his music would be the barter
a lyrical tip that would suffice
for a kiss