• Adagio for Strings

    I hear a hum that comes from strings.
    Vibrations render such sweet sounds.
    From whence? Your precious violin
    that rests so peaceful in your hands.
    Struck to life, rejoice and mourn
    and let me feel your dark romance.

    Throughout our young and mute romance
    you bound me tight with taut heart strings.
    Music left me no time to mourn.
    Rather, dance with grace to lovely sounds,
    twirl and step. You took my hands
    to glide and lead me like a violin.

    In times of joy, sparked by your touch, a violin
    could fan flames of our bold romance.
    Only with your nimble hands
    would light divulge so easily from strings.
    Whenever thought of this persists, it sounds
    as though your songs were meant to mourn.

    Such beauty should never have made me mourn.
    Sorrow dripped like tears from your violin.
    Never did I want to hear those sounds,
    the shrieks and aching moans of ailing romance
    that you so agonized, coaxed from those strings.
    I closed my eyes, ears covered fast with hands.

    “My fate rests well, my love, in your skilled hands.”
    Or so I said, “So don’t you mourn
    that I will leave.” You plucked your strings.
    You caressed not me, but your violin!
    I hear the ghost of our romance
    whisper dreadful, hurtful, taunting sounds.

    Amidst these old remembered sounds
    I long for kisses, for your hands.
    In crime and death lies no romance
    and now I’m left alone to mourn
    without consoling from your violin.
    For I had choked you lovingly with strings.

    Those awful strings rendered such vibrant sounds
    that I burned your violin, lit the match with my own hands.
    There’s nothing left to do but listen, mourn our old romance.

    (c) Goddess Bound / Sheena Prasad 2009