Lumiere

The world does not look perfect until your favorite composer plays in its background, drowning out the cluster of noises taking aim. I am alarmed by these things I do out of desperation. But the crying cello reminds me of his quivering breath deep in my ear. And a triangle’s ding encourages a drop of rain to fall from the arching willow above. I can feel the bow stroke my thighs in this tall grass and remember the harshness of steel glide across my fingers just as his nails dug into the small of my back. I had a first chair romance yet the story I should have followed was sitting right in front of me in dusty yellow, books. Music cannot strangle you as hard as he does the neck of his sweet, melancholy Viola. Viola was carved with diligence. But not without error. She could not see through those mother of pearl eyes the music in front of her. Oh, how I am alarmed by this noise. 

Reviews

[Gabriel]

Very well penned, it's rare that a poem breaks through my hardened heart sometimes..(I've just had so many poems) but this one did it. Thanks for sharing it.