We defined our pitch; our consonance;
dancing pastoral duets of effortless dynamics
finely tuned by ear, in love,
by eye, in lust.
Time shifts the key.
right in the middle of our composition.
Your dominant, my diminished;
harmonious phrases denied completion.
Dull monotony seeps under our melody,
bleeding a bruise of harsh discordance and
confused tones that have no beginning and no end.
All our strings vibrate, when only one is struck.
You refuse to greet our requiem;
I refuse to hear our elegy,
and we are nothing, but smashed chords.
© Anna Ghislena 2014