song

Song

Tugging at chords, writing verses.
We refrained and repeated,
arranged and rearranged.
We wrote accidentals on purpose,
a constant changing of keys.

Fine tuning each other,
playing in perfect pitch. Bars every
few beats drawn and erased—
finding when best to take a breath.

Isn’t it ironic, strings plucked on stage
tuning—adjusting?
All I hear is discord and chaos,
missing melodies that mend.

So we wrote symphonies, you and I,
mastering the music. Those secret

songs ravaged reality, crafting a
perfect world between only our fingers. 

And finishing with the perfect cadence,
we played a sequence of chords.

Not repeating this time— a clean cutoff.
Stilled strings and silent voices.

Advertisements

About Laura

marketing director at Possible. formerly at Greatist. Still running, finding zen, and searching for the perfect bloody mary.

Posted on November 28, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: