soundtrack

you don’t receive me the same,
my deformity dipped and solidified
into my self-acceptance...
what was the norm
enhancing your beauty
in the background,
deejaying soundtracks to your move.

keeping my head to play this funky horn
a soundtrack I follow you with
spurting red-orange glow tunes
taking me to the same old spot
igniting that old notion,
about me running too far to greet you,
leaving myself behind that’s expiring
from that self-inflicted wound
that’s not healing the same ...

subscriptions expired,
the pulsing words vanished,
consumed, ebbed,
still looking into everything,
where to renew me
in a gentle touch ...
and the soundtrack
I follow you with
keeps on deceiving me.....