The Violin Room

I conjure in my head

the smell of wood and rosin

and sweet romance as I would stroke my violin

as her lilting voice would settle around me

until she began to scream a jarring noise,

disrupting the flow.

I dropped my bow.

Silence pierced the air like a crescendo.

I didn't know,I would taste the salt in my tears

when I felt your betrayal kiss my ears

and pulled down my pants-

Cold against my skin, your Judas hands

and when I looked you in your haughty eyes

I wanted to kill you, but that day, I died.

I stood as a ghost in that room

laid down my violin and my tomb.

The room would stink of slithering silence, tears, sweat,

and my feet that ran away and tried to forget.

It's through my writing I face it with all my strength

in all my glory at having defeated death.

As this poem ends.

I release all my pain and hurt

like pieces of scrap in the wind.