I sit down at this instrument and begin to play.
Melancholy melodies fill the room;
Each hammer striking the strings of my heart.
My fingers move softly along ivory keys,
And I'm reminded of you.
Pale keys mirror the soft and bare flesh of another lover;
You thought I never knew.
I begin to hear your voice, fear its songs.
So harsh, so unloving.
It floods my ears, drowning my thoughts;
Choking my own song.
My fingers grow angry, and my wrists violent.
Savagely pressing each key,
As if each movement were to pierce your soul.
I have hope that maybe,
Maybe I could bleed you of the darkness that resides there.
And just as this song slows,
Growing hushed, patient.
That aching melody, your melody repeats.
I find myself again filling the room with bleakness,
With the women of your past.
With your haunting voice.
All I can think is,
Will this melody ever die?
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