You're like a song
on the playlist of this heartache
strumming the chords
of my pain
over and over again.
Nostalgia is looking at me
with sad eyes,
watching me suffer from
undiagnosed
Last Song Syndrome
stuck to my vocal cords.
The music is over
still, I kept humming,
a hopeless attempt to remember
which part of the lyrics
we went out of tune
and began hurting each other.
Was it when you sang all by yourself
when we're supposed to go on a duet?
Or, when I paused to catch my breath
because I knew we're off-key.
You're like a song
on my secret playlist,
the anthem of this pain,
the hymn I'd always sing
even if the melody
that links
our heartbeats and breaths
have long
died on our lips.
©amsterdam
A