Limerence
A stream of music flows through my mind
Petals picked, torn, ripped, from a disc
I can’t remember the last time it’s been tuned
Do I remember how to hum with intent so quick?
Or can I continue with this stream of fabrication,
Sewing its way into stuck keys
All the notes felt of a familiar off white marrow
Though the harmony cannot squeeze,
Through something so narrow
I’m sorry for the confusion,
of a backwards quaver
With gentle consideration
I’ll allow our love to waiver
Copyright © Alayna Maher | Year Posted 2024
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