You’re in one room tonight—
    music loud,
    heart full,

    the beat hitting just right.

I’m in another—
    a different crowd,
      different noise,
      different rhythm.

But it’s still the same song.

Still the same hum under the floorboards.
Still the same pulse behind the noise.

Even now,
    me in one beat,
    you in another,
    from opposite ends of the city,
    wearing different faces for the night—

    I’m thinking about you.

About how the night we spent—
   (until the morning, again)
   didn’t need speakers
           nor stages
           nor spotlights.

It only needed us,
   finding the rhythm
   no one else could hear.

And tonight?

Same city.
Different rooms.
Same tether.

I'll raise a glass your way,
     catch the tail end of someone's joke,
     and listen for the echo of your laugh…

     like a bassline I already know by heart.

Different rooms.

Same song.

Still playing.