The person against my side isn’t you,
the beating in my chest hits that sour note
as I watch you laughing as if everything is okay,
but the music is wrong, has been for days.

I remember our tune well,
but what was once so clear and full,
feels now more of a tolling
of long, drowning, funeral bells.

But I don’t dare turn the music off,
lest I be accused again of hating sound.
So I watch you crawl into bed with others,
and listen to the formation of ice over myself.

I loved once, the lyrics that fell from your lips,
but now they are just disjointed plagiarism.
Its sad, being made to watch it die.
The last note my footsteps.

Then silence.