And if music were words
I have told him my deepest secrets
Pressed his ear against my chest
"Can you hear the shuffling pieces?"
Even in darkness barely touching black
The tips of my fingers dipped in white
He hovers over me like my flats & sharps
As though somewhere he noticed a flood of light.
I taught him a song beside me
A song in which I would follow his pace
When he moves, I move
Whichever route he takes, I trace.
Every mistake he has made
Must have been a reason to hear my voice
Even in years after those musical nights
Taunting me has always been his method of choice.
No comments:
Post a Comment