It is the clinking….
and the soft violin in the back
that reminds me why I’m drinking alone.
The soft hallelujah of distance voices
and I can’t tell if I spilled my drink
or if I’m crying.
Tell me my friend
as my fingers move over the keys
while the piano catches dust in the corner
why must they win?
why won’t they be silent?
I miss the bitterness winter brings,
the rage of moving endless piles
onto other piles, just to be able to move.
And I sway to the beautifully haunting melody
and sip another mouthful from the bottle I lost track of
while remembering long lost times.
Sitting in classroom, wondering what life would be like,
if I lived to 18,
if I lived to 21,
Wondering if I live now.
The bitter sting is gone now,
the music has faded.
But still I am
and wishing still
for the violin’s song soon will end.
I drowned in amber liquid,
and loved the sound of a singular symphony,
bittersweet, bitter me…
I knew love then.