sustain
I'm talking about the past. The sound
that hurts to remember. Not because of regret,
but because water's so hard when we smack
into it. Sometimes memory sounds
like a bruise, other times like a decision, or
a tree getting frisked by the wind.
Do you remember deciding not to kiss?
We decided to hear ourselves
in the future. Our bodies' language was
acoustic, relentless. The most beautiful room
in the world is so empty it hurts,
the music played in it could pass for food.
