sometimes i wonder if
you kept that shirt i gave you
three years ago on your birthday
with your favorite band printed on the front
but then i remember that you
never really cared,
and if i burned the letters you wrote me,
and cared so much,
then you probably threw it away long ago
the orchestra plays until the end, plays ‘till they’re the last ones standing amidst the chaos of racing hearts and pumping adrenaline. violin notes ride the rising waves, drowning with the splashes and thrashing bodies. loud cries sound from below deck, helpless screams no one bothers listening to, but are forced to hear. the low bass of the cello rises above it all, sticking to droplets on eyelashes and clinging to the impossibly cold specks of frost floating in the air, produced by cold lips and warm breath.
then everything is gone, sinking down, down, down with the icy chill of everything unknown the vast depths hold; it’s the deepest meaning of a paralian, becoming one with the sea, living in it rather than simply by it.
a maestro sits on the stars above, watching. cracks fill his silence, faint in the background, striving to break through the barrier of hopeless hearts and dying souls. it all crashes down at once, lives lost, hope lost, everything lost in the immeasurable water now above instead of below. and he looks on, wondering where everything went wrong and how it amounted to this finale.
he raises a hand and the cello ceases. the lone sound of a violin plays on, hidden beneath cold skin and warm water.
alone and lonely are completely different
when everything’s gone, burn the ashes.
cover them up.
cover them too.
cover that as well.
how is it that i hide myself so well,
and still think there’s too much showing?
i don’t know when to write
or how, really.
but i know that i love it,
so i do it anyway.