For once, I let the jukebox run. I don't cut it off before it gets to that spot I know always hurts. I don't brace for impact, or skip quickly through the catalogues to easier times. I barrel through that song where you first touched me, I sit through the song that whispered to me how I loved you and it was too soon to say. I turn up the volume at the song that you used to tell me you no longer loved me and before the song was over you'd completely walked away. It took a while to be able to hear them without tensing at the scar tissue, but here we are. I think of your skin and do not even flinch. I smile into unknown eyes and do not feel sad. I can stand in the ocean waves now and only feel water.
I regret none of this. The music is good. It always was.
And bittersweet still has the word sweet in it.
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