I tell you to play the violin, but you brusquely snatch the cello and grate its strings.

Its sounds elucidate the hollow and empty echoes of our chests. Where can I find your cerulean eyes?

As you continue to vanish from my hold, I resume the troubled rattles of my lips. It only speaks your name when you will not listen.

Singing the words of a forgotten yesterday, you reach the in-between and haunt me with the hymns of the present.

I long to hear the crescendos of the violin; the one with promises.

By god, we are so voided.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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