i’m not mad, but disappointment can sting a little harder, cut a little deeper than anger can.
silence overtakes the two of us.
"it’s just a rest."
oh, okay. so now we’re speaking in music terms.
my body, my life is like a metronome; tick tock, tick tock. the battery’s going to die out eventually and you just keep draining the acid. your voice makes my heart pick up tempo and the bar of music has cut into half time, my heart pounding in my chest in quarter notes...no, more like eighth notes.
i play the chords,you add on what sounds best, right?
built up crescendo...followed close by deafening silence.
this is the finale. there is no encore.
you are not my coda.
there is no reprise.
my heart is screaming "da capo", go back in time, live through it again...but we both know that’s impossible.
this is the end.
