Sun, 03/30/2014 - 17:26 -- Brynn

He played me like a cello

soft and sweet


until the finale.


The high notes whined

and the low notes dragged on, on, on.


The finale

was agonizing.


And when it was over

I looked into the mirror and wept.

Such a beautiful piece.


My ears strained to hear

the symphonic sound.


He stood

swept up his flattering instrument

and quietly exited the stage.


I look behind me and behold

a see of women with betrayal

burning in their eyes and on their lips.


They will never forgive.


I look back to my mirror.

Now I see it was broken.

My perception, warped.


I mend my mirror

but this time I turn it to him.


He is the broken one.


It is now I that rises,

putting his dexterity behind me,

and softly disappears.


I walk alone but one thought

courses its way through my mind:


It's time to write a new song.


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