I hid beneath the fragile layers of my making.
Each layer a time once belonged
Each layer it's own ending
I sang to my soul weary within itself.
Every note falling through fibers of a memory
Every dance barefoot on floors watered by
I lament in echoes of what could have been and should have not.
Every regret penanced
Every fault given a name
I lay in these layers that is me, sad violins and piano keys. Black feathers falling where the past still breathes and where alone with me, I must sometimes be.