Sonique, you who live between the struck bell and the fading ring, between the needle’s drop and the vinyl’s hiss — hear my cry.
Sonique, bend time for me. Just once. Let the kick drum be a second heart. Let the synth wash over my spine like a hand lifting a curse. Let me stand in a room full of strangers and remember — for three minutes and forty seconds — that I am not alone. sonique hear my cry
Hear me: I have forgotten how to feel without a beat. My joy has become a diagram. My grief, a silent film. Sonique, you who live between the struck bell