I met her four years ago. I found her tonight.
This is where she feels at home, at her pedal, with her strings constantly out of tune.
This is how she sees the world, as chaos fitted through a stave. Harmony.
This is how she laughs, sound and hard, at her flaws and yours.
This is how she climaxes, to the reverberations of the bass, in her groin.
This is how she fights, to the mad beat of her heart, without restraint.
This is how she cries, far too easily, at someone else’s hurt.
This is how she finds love, hoping that someone, somewhere, burns as she does.
This is how she lives, for no one but herself.
For you, Tina.