neatly stacked CDs

outdated, out of use, out of style
an antiquity—my soul
you played me
listened to my music
scratched my silver linings
what good am I now?
no music can be heard
songs are skipping, incoherent
funny, broken thing—my soul
you played me
carefully opening each case like you didn’t care
rearranging my soul
scratched, played over and over
beyond repair—my soul
hands delicately traced each haphazardly stacked case
not a place for everything not in its place
one by one I rip them out
across the room, I toss
click! clack! cases clatter
softly whispering as they sail through the air
“I was played one too many times”
click! clack! against the wall
breaking apart, flying discs no longer compact
old silver linings glinting with a blink
click! clack! on the floor
the past piles up
useless antiquity
my soul—emptied
of the music you played
of the times we danced
of the lyrics that brought us to life
sparse and plenty and free
room for new silver linings
I will get soul.