The day the music stopped

Smelled like a dragging cigarette died

And I couldn’t concentrate

I had painted the stars in the sky red,

Red as the blood of my father

As he laid on the floor

Red as the lips of my mother

As she kissed his face

For one last time, the breadth of love’s grace

I painted the stars red and inhaled the scent

But that day the music came to a grinding halt.

And I was at a loss.

I swallowed a poison, took a bullet to the chest

I hauled a suitcase that had to be unpacked

All because a piano stopped humming

The day the music stopped, I knew I was alone

And the burden rested solely upon me

It was time to fly, and then I came to learn

That holding on and letting go are one and the same

These are things I no longer wish to understand

Because the stars went back to gray

I was out of time for childhood.

Thank you very much for reading this poem, and please make sure to let me know your thoughts before you leave.

…BRD…

I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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