There’s a broken record
turning slowly in my mind,
a relentless repetition
of your moans,
soft and breathless,
like music from a distant room.

Each sigh, each gasp,
plays again
in restless darkness—
echoes circling endlessly,
sweet agony pressed deep
into memory’s groove.

I can’t silence it,
can’t lift the needle
from these tender sounds—
your pleasure haunts me
like a whispered hymn
I was never meant to forget.

Night after night,
your voice fills
the empty hours,
this beautiful torture
spinning slowly,
reminding me
of every moment
I made you tremble,
and every reason
I crave to hear it again.