The Volume

She's turned up the volume of our relationship so loud that I have to cover my ears. I know for certain now that we don't want to listen to the same song; hers is out of tune and mine was never played. The dissonant rhythm fluctuates its speed as if she is changing her grip on the record to dance however she wants, leaving me standing in the middle of the floor uncertain. Yet, even as I stand here with mixed feelings, I know I could never dance with her without my toes being stepped on: her movement is erratic and she would never learn another way.