Dimly lit yellow lights above seating for two.

subway cart, on the line back to your home;

these tangled cords became my tie to you,

intertwined—like our paths—crossing yet again.

I twist the wire between my fingertips,

queuing a few long songs for a short ride in which I try to make the most:

it seems my heart twists too, a galore of nerves,

hoping one playlist and two earbuds will keep us close.

I feel your steady beat parallel to mine,

as the rickety tracks shake the buds out of place.

still listening, dipping below an overhead pass,

and as the light is swallowed, I catch a glimpse of your face.

the sound doesn’t drown out through the train ride clamor;

I still feel all of the music as your shoulder leans on mine. 

hearing every lyric as you quietly hum beneath your breath,

I can still see the song playing, behind your eyes.