Music has that ability to unleash the trappings inside me that I can't set free on my own.

Inspire and release me while triggering and twisting me into knots while you force me to see myself clearly.

You. Yes you.

The wound won't close if I keep picking at it

But I'm in love with my pain it would seem.

The one I mistake for your face and voice

It

“LABOUR” BY PARIS PALOMA

Why are you hanging on so tight
To the rope that I'm hanging from?
Off this island, this was an escape plan (this was an escape plan)
Carefully timed it, so let me go
And dive into the waves below

Who tends the orchards? Who fixes up the gables?
Emotional torture from the head of your high table
Who fetches the water from the rocky

We need, in love, to practice only this:

letting each other go. For holding on

comes easily; we do not need to learn it.