A conversation fragment overheard on a busy London street.
'Did you not get my text babe?' he said, dreadlocks bobbing in the sun.
'No..' she said as hope flitted across her sad, child-like face.
'I'm sorry' she said.
'Don't worry' he said gently, his words a caress.
'We will play (music) together another time.'
He leaned towards her, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her like a blessing.
He walked away, with a slow sexy stride.
She stood and watched him with all her longing written all over her face.
I wanted to take her hand and say
'Take back your power woman.
You KNOW he is lying to you.
He never sent that text.
Do not wait for this man, or any other to give you permission to play your music!
Make your own music!'
Are YOU holding your self back waiting for SOMEONE ELSE to give you permission to play your music or sing your song?
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