Vines

I no longer listen to certain songs that remind me of you If I do my brain becomes like white grapes in a wine press the juice seeping out of my eyes leaving the pomace sloshing within my skull fertilizing seeds of pernicious thoughts and feelings that soon sprout into an invasive infestation of intransigent vines winding their way into every crack and crevice taking root throughout my essence excruciatingly painful to pull only releasing their hold after extraordinary effort It would be far easier to leave them be They’re quite pretty actually but they would weaken the mortar holding me together causing it to crumble I don’t have the energy anymore to rebuild myself brick by brick as I’ve done before There is silence where once was the ever present sound of singing, the plinking of pianos the strumming of guitar strings, the beat of bass drums all blending together into audible art There is only the music within me The steady metronome of my heart