_______________
The music ends.
Or cacophany, it is.
I-wants, He-wants-
clash like a misplaced cymbal
in a chorale. The destruction
of something sweet with a sound
of heart breaks, tears and dissent

to come.

The last note.
The only one most remember-
last kiss, last touch,
last- this ain't gon last.
Even the most beautiful of
harmonies must end. Or at
least pause.

To mourn over a broken harmony
would be to hate the beauty of music.


I carry on...looking for the perfect chord...the holder of the perfect note.