Music Exists

Modulations of variant frequencies
In cellular flesh matter proportions
In questionable allocations;
Of the soul’s displacement,
Or the mind’s location,
To the point of disdain,
In listening to vain chatter
Of words discerned
Or lost in the ether.

Especially when
Or information
As an alternative.


I Don’t Know

I don’t love them like you do
I don’t know if I ever will.
My heart is small
It can only love few
It’s hands don’t reach
As far as yours do.
I don’t think I’ll ever
Be able to love them
Not like you do.

It takes too much work
To love them.
Every word
Every reaction
Every action
I hear it
I hear them plead
Love me.
But I just can’t seem
To do it properly.
And it doesn’t seem to matter
That I can be just like them.

They speak
They tell me things
I listen
But they don’t know
They don’t ask
About the pain
I feel
Because of you.
Not that I’d be able to
Tell them anyway.

Isn’t it funny
How the voices subside
The less I interact with them
The less prominent you became in my life.

I’ve seen it
That face
Of fear
Even jealousy.
They all bother me
Even if I may be able to understand it.

I thought
At least here
I could exist.
But not really.
The worst things
Don’t get written.
It isn’t safe anywhere.

I’m sorry
I couldn’t prove you wrong this time.

But you don’t know
The pain of losing you.