Irreversible.
internal.
injury.
She lets her lover gingerly pluck her harp strings
like silvery filaments of hair,
brushing out
those knotted tips.
Until one note flunks,
turns sour, bitter, discordant
when he punches her intimate instrument
at the core.
A sharp jab to her heartschord,
a knife to her life.
Strings break at their attachments,
at their ends.
He walks away into blank space,
forgetting their past and
blurring memories till they
are as fuzzy as an old vinyl record,
popping intermittently,
interrupting perfection and bliss.
Gone is the heavenly melody,
smashed like fragile glass.
Then the heart shrivels, letting out a final moan
and drops to the pit like
crumpled pages
excreted from the mind.
It melts.
She melts,
fast like candle wax.
spilling and oozing over everything
in a permanent crimson flood.
It just lies there,
Awash.
Staining black and white nostalgic puzzle pieces
in red waves of grief,
dripping fresh and wet for the concert audience
to ogle and awe at.
No ovation.
No sympathy to her pitiful situation.
The symphony of blinking pupils
and apathetic eyes scan her
loose and lazy.
For she is naked now, stripped to her skeleton
and he’s not there to blanket her with affection.
They point with rude fingers
and hungry eyes
like children waiting for new plastic,
new toys.
But, they can’t have it.
Her vulnerability.
Her aortic puddle, like red wine
flooding the creases of cobblestone streets.
Saluting the salvageable,
kneeling,
she starts to rain,
trickling drop by drop
off to that empty place,
running a muddy muck and
mingling with that bloody organ.
Iron and tears.
They represent her worst fear
manifesting before her,
unfolding in public.
So lonesome
for somebody.
Someone, but not him.
He chose to leave.
And now she is infinitely bound in this position,
as time is nothing and
placement is irrelevant.
Backdrop is pure black,
She cannot even find comfort in numbers,
in fellow humans.
Lost.
A zero in a labyrinth of arteries,
sucked lifeless without forgiveness.
Reverse.
Regrow.
Heal.
Blips 'n' Bleeps 