Nothing happened really.
It’s still there, like all the crystal
glasses we never smashed
in celebration of pure love.
Strings just trembled
and lost their tune,
as it fell on the floor
with the sound of a weak soul.
The silence that followed,
its wooden ribcage
filled with black air,
ressembled mine
as I tried to forget you.
These days when I wanted
to leave you, replace you,
and eventually lose you.
Except that I never reached
that feeling
others call forgetting.
My room stays lit up all night,
I let the curtains beat in the wind
and bring back that melody
you composed for me.
That one nothing will eclipse
ever, not even Bach
not even a choir
of hysterical angels.
It seems breaking
has an element of blank,
it can’t separate my pulse
from yours, the way
I couldn’t shatter
that instrument to pieces.
After all,
there is a little joy in all,
knowing physical laws
can always betray us.

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