Someone around me is always laughing

I gave my heart to four songwriters last night. Just gave it up, completely and without regret. It was that entrancing. The studio was full of people, heavy red and white drapery around the stage, sprinkled with lanterns, the occasional glowing chandelier, and one of every type of sittting furniture you can think of. It was dark, dramatic, romantic, artistic, and uninterruptingly magical. For a few hours, I forgot about any world outside of music.

I wanted louder. I wanted more. I wanted to swallow his voice and savour it inside me. I wanted to press into him and feel the guitar vibrations against my skin. I tried to tell him so when his eyes fell upon mine, but the energy in the room was so thick that we may as well have been trying to have a conversation from opposite sides of New York.

And I thought I had fallen in love, but after the drinks and cigarettes were consumed, I realized that it was the music that had swirled me into an affair. It was the chord that kissed my neck. It was the harmony that stroked the inside of my wrist. It was the silence at the end of a song that whispered in my ear.

Music promised never to break my heart.