What was once a blissful flow of pitches and harmonies
spilling from tangled white wires and into my ears
became a flow of sorrow and tears,
spilling from my eyes and strolling down my cheeks
as the song and the memory joined hands
and became one,
refusing to separate
no matter how hard I tried to rip their intertwined fingers apart
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
What was once a blissful flow of pitches and harmonies
spilling from tangled white wires and into my ears
became a flow of sorrow and tears,
spilling from my eyes and strolling down my cheeks
as the song and the memory joined hands
and became one,
refusing to separate
no matter how hard I tried to rip their intertwined fingers apart
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