Something I put up here a while ago and then took down and am now putting up again...?

It was a classic I hadn't heard before; you said it reminded you of me. Back then, the sadder second half seemed irrelevant, but eventually you made it all true. So right now, to me, this song is everything. 

It's the perfect theme, the summary, the movie montage. How pretty it is, to wrap it all up in pre-packaged meaning. It happens every time: the cliché seduces me with its powerful comfort, and I can't resist. Indulge guilt-free in the cheesy similes, because the perfect song is like a blanket, it's like a long embrace, it's like a bittersweet symphony or a warm gun or a shot through the heart. Pain and complications condensed into a digestible dose; a bitter, soothing medicine that will wear off by the next morning when I'll wake up aching and need to find a new one.

Right now Tom Petty sings about me. He flatters and pities me; I am his tragic heroine and his guitar rings out in agreement. That electric D, in endless repetition, knows my naivety and persistence. Tom Petty knew. He wrote this for your mixtape, our late night joyrides, my crying for broken things.

When people make stories and songs they know that to venture outside a clean plot line is distracting; the heartbreaking awkwardness of real life is set aside for clarity's sake. Our memories do the same thing, and to me, our theme was the music. It's a cliché I can't resist. We shared it and it had so much meaning, said every tender thing we couldn't. It sang through us when we were free and happy; when I was yours, finally. We lost it, and fell apart. A beginning, a middle, and an end. Themes make things so easy. Themes make so much sense.

Tonight I will go out with my friends in the town we used to own, together. The lights will flash and dull in my half-drunk haze, and we will ramble down the streets, shoes in our hands and laughing. For a while I will forget everything, and I will be so happy. 

But with your bed so close, it's bound to happen. When the music pulses through my chest and I move with the hot, thick crowd, all I will wish is to keep that one little promise. "I'll pull you out of the darkness and into the fire, onto the dance floor." It is dark here too; no one will see our faces, no one has to know. And we can dance here like we said we would, just for a while, to the music.