Singing and Sheeran

Is it weird that
I can’t wait to drive up
to my last semester of
college just to listen to
“Castle on a Hill” on repeat?
To dance in my seat, to belt out songs,
because I may not be the best
but I really like singing.

I used to be scared
my voice wouldn’t compare to his.
Nothing spectacular, just on key
and sounding good. Pleasing.
I don’t know even if he was aware
of doing it,
but I can still see it,
see myself telling him
“You can sing.”
Like it’s magic,
like there’s mystery behind
keeping in tune

And tomorrow, I’ll be by the side
of one of my best friends
who sent me his own songs
and who can sing and play guitar

“I’m on way
driving at 90
down those country lanes—”

And I think of your profile in
darkness illuminated by red lights,
of his as he swayed to “Riptide” and
my smile tore my face in half

“And I miss the way
you make me feel

and it’s real.”

So real.

“We watched the sunset
over the castle on the hill.”


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