I’m not thinking about him.
Not at all.
Nah.
I’m distracted.
Writing. Working. Creating.
Not thinking about him.
Don’t got time.
He’s the last damn thing on my mind.
These lies fill my head with poison.
I drink them down like water.
Then it hits me.
“I think I got somethin’—a visual.”
Diggs flops back onto the couch.
“Fuck it—give me a visual.”
I snap my fingers once.
“Both of you, lean back. Eyes closed.”
I point at Ace. “No nap time. I mean it.”
He shoots me a pained look, groans,
does it anyway.
Diggs follows.
And I drop last.
Into cracked leather.
Into the hush.
The mixing board hums.
The amps breathe.
The silence curls around our ankles,
waiting for me.
“Alright.”
The room falls quiet.
“Picture this: a loud-as-hell, unforgiving break-up anthem. The kind that shatters glass. Where every lyric gets screamed until throats bleed. A fuck-you goodbye. The one defining moment when you finally choose the unknown overher.”
