bluetooth speaker

today, the music arrived

in the form of picking up

empty wrappers off my

bedroom floor. it arrived

in the form of brushing

my teeth with care for

the new gaps. it arrived

gingerly in my mind, so

faint it almost went unheard.

but I heard it. the music

of recovery. the music asked

quiet questions of pity that felt

like a warm hug instead of a slap.

the concerns raised weren’t out

of annoyance but genuine care,

asking not if I was ok but

what they could do to help me.

the music taught my heart

how to beat again. the rhythm

synced with my lungs allowing

me to breathe; in, and out, in, and out.