it hurts like blades cutting through low-key minors
in D
yet still
it is too silent for your loneliness to listen in
like sliding strokes over a wall of creeping darkness
a move flinches in shadows set ablaze
this passion burning off to dust and lifeless ashes
setting through slowed-down days in stillness to recall
another you that moved through notes inscribed on patches
of torn down verse and scribbles pledged to self
in pitches sounding nonsense to your tortured mind turned spirit
when those low chords started to shape out memories attuned to the expected
in all its fortitude of an unwanted turn into staccato
with a rewinding of a mismatched sound rushing to dwindle
into a veering swirl of lines reflected back beyond the angles of that prism
which your tired will imagines at the verge of nowhere intersecting never
as though you’re waiting for that last nocturne to flow into tomorrow
alone
with all but resonating voids along the path of movement in denial
of those low-keys in sorrow and compliance
to that one force that keeps you bound to silence

(inspired by the sounds of ‘Obsequence’ by Sebastian Plano)