Broken strings

The violin wails, torn from within,
Its strings unravel like the love we’ve been.

Each stroke of the bow is a knife through my chest,

Ripping apart the heart that can’t find rest.

Your memory stings with every mournful sound,

In this hollow symphony where hope’s unwound.

The notes shatter, jagged, sharp as glass,

Cutting deep through the wounds of the past.

I feel you slipping, lost to the night,

Fading like whispers, out of sight.

But the pain—oh, it stays, endless, alive,

As the violin screams what I cannot survive