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Violin in Childhood MAG
The vibration of the string resonates
against my neck –
tightening the band around
that untraceable organ I
strive to avoid feeling. The sound
of it is a sour, broken melody,
and soaks the band in a
lazy acid, not burning,
but irritating the soft skin
just enough to stop my bow.
My muscles tense beneath
my brow, frustrated. The band slackens
in relief. But an unrelenting
fear threatens to resurface –
fear of forming a habit. Laziness.
I pair it with the looming conscience
of the warden, listening from
across the hall,
and I anticipate another familiar
ache as I repeat my last cadenza.
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This article has 11 comments.
I really enjoyed it.
Lovely poem darling =]
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XxThe Whole Time You Were Talking I Didnt Hear A Single Word You Said B/C Th3 Whole Time You Were Talking I Was Picturing You DeadXx
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Really Amazing!!!
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Favorite Quote:
"In this life, we take our chances and in the end, the best we can hope for is that the thrill of the moment was worth the price we paid."