Whimpered and glazed irony,

A tape deck sits untouched, covered in dust,

and memories fade out.

Just as I pick the needle up off another record.

Consolidating, through every track and I am unbound in whatever refuge I am seeking.

I’m just going to keep them all anyways.

This reminds me of me, of you, of them, of that.

I made the realization I’ve been listening to the same music for twenty years.

Enough for me to say that that passion I felt on hearing of any tune, locked its firm grasp into my very heart, took a seat, and never left.

Just grew fonder.