I saw Lonely Days spin up again.
And then Turnpike came on.
The same band we stood shoulder to shoulder for in Vegas —
you in my hoodie,
me in awe of you and the lights
and how the music somehow sounded
like our story.
You may be lifting weights,
but something heavier’s playing.
And maybe you didn’t mean for me to know,
but the playlist always tells the truth.
If your chest still remembers the rhythm,
mine still holds the melody.
I’m here.
Just like that night.
Still swaying beside you —
even if only in memory.