An archaic tune playes over the dusty radio,
Reminds me of a dwindling duet I almost forgot a second back,
Every cosmic binder of the universe,
Wants me to never forget the rhapsody of our love.
Our rhapsody was melodious,
The tune was full of life,
And the lyrics of this rhapsody,
Were the loving letters I wrote you.
This rhapsody hit me hard,
But somewhere in the lyrics we drift apart,
And the bridge we built with committed chords,
Collapsed as you broke the guitar strings.
This rhapsody was our lover’s call,
I sang it and it beckoned you to me when I needed you,
And you followed my voice and sang along and gave me comfort,
But now when my ears sense this tune of the Blues,
They bleed a stream of shattered love.
And I scream louder than breaking glass.
Pillows don’t comfort me the way I was comforted,
When I cried into your arms and soaked your shirt in those tears,
My pillow only absorbs my pain but doesn’t relieve me of it,
The way you did when your chest was my only pillow.
I can hear your voice hiss through the corridors of my brain,
Corridors painted your favorite colour with our pictures hung up on the walls,
With this now irritable rhapsody playing in the ballroom of my mind,
Which is my destination to be in hallucinations,
When drowning in insomnia,
Dreaming of you in my arms,
Dancing an endless dance.
I can’t sing a note no more,
My throat is blunt of unspoken words,
The rhapsody of our love burns me down to a soulless spirit,
And this spirit can’t survive with her soul anymore.
You are my soul.
I can’t sing the Blues anymore,
Because you tore apart my vocal cards.
Pain is the only note I could produce,
But now I have a heart of stone and a spirit devoid of love,
Which has no voice of it’s own.
I can never caese my love for you,
You are my life and you are my death,
And now that the rhapsody has lost its life,
I dream of only death,
As I gulp down a handful of pills,
Drug me of a faraway fantasy,
This fantasy which I can only achieve,
With the sacrifice of my present life.
And the pills start their deadly effects,
As my body slowly turns into stone like my heart,
I am nothing but a mere corpse,
As grim darkness crawls upto the ceiling walls,
And as the noises intensify of the dead spirit’s desperate insanity,
I still hear over the drunken voids,
Rhapsody which still plays over the dusty radio..
Greetings fellow bloggers! Across this wonderful interactive platform, I came across a publication named ACorneredGurl started by Miss Tremaine Loadholt. Here, I was made aware of Young Minds of Medium, wherein the youth can submit their unique pieces according to certain challenges. This time, the challenge was ‘How Do You Sing The Blues’ and this was the poem I wrote. The minimum required age was 15 and Miss Tre accepted me as a writer in her impeccable magazine despite me being 13. My wholehearted regards to her. She has so kindly blessed me with her generous and beautiful nature.
I hope you all take out the time to read this one😊
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