Saturday, May 30, 2015

imperfections: bow

Part 2 of "imperfections"
Paired with this poem.


my heartstrings are strung
too tight 
and every chord 
plucked threatens 
to break
to snap

my first lover played
me like his piano
ribcage bruised against
the pedal 

so when he left 
the steel strings 
were frayed 
and I never thought 
I could be played again

but you learned 
instead to pull
across gently 
with your bow.

and you don’t expect 
the notes that 
come out
to be beautiful 
and you don’t flinch when 
it screeches instead 
you just keep 
on playing and 

that’s enough. 

I have never been 
my favourite song 
but you have always


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