She’ll never admit how much each lyric stung
How each note broke her down more
How each beat felt like a hit against her heart
How each chorus line broke her voice
A slow and painful suffering as she listened
But what she’ll never admit is how it hurt more
To hear those lyrics, that beat, that chorus...that song
The song that spoke the truth her lips could not say
The truth hat she so desperately sought to reveal
But she’ll never admit it.
She’ll never admit how it hurt to know you would
Never even bat an eye when it played
Or think of her.
Because you never listened to the one thing
That spoke a million feelings you needed to hear.
About the Creator
Colorful Chaotic
I write to keep the demons at bay.
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Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi2 days ago in Fiction
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