Listen closely to the background score
In the start,
It’s the mechanical whir of popcorn vending machines
The splashes of the crashing waves
The clinking of the cutlery by a roadside eatery
The soft lub dub of the heart.
As time goes by
And love longingly looks at the door left ajar,
craving for an escape
the sounds are faded,
suppressed, replaced, traded.
You now hear
the phone beeps which never arrive
the tinkling of the ice as it slips down a half-filled vice
the sobs you gulp down while the office meeting’s on
the voices in head, yes, the ones you dread.
Listen closely, is it music or is it noise?
Is it still love or just another regrettable choice?