The Unfinished

The only Riff I remember,

is the one you could never finish,

in a world that will tarnish and fade,

as a way for me to see

how you look through my skin,

how you touch my veins,

caress my tendons, my ligaments,

tugging them and strumming them,

to play the riff you want of me.

As my heart pounds out the beat

your fingers pick and they pluck,

till I throw my head back to see

if your skin can actually touch mine

soft enough that I don’t tear

You’re a song so lonesome, so slippery,

that it leaks from my pores

before I can gather it against my eardrums

and you let go as I choke on the riff

that you promised you would finish.


2 thoughts on “The Unfinished

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