Notes

You aren’t real anymore and I disown our memories,
(Not that there ever were any sober),
I choose not to believe that you are there
And so you are not. 

My strangled cries are lost in the screams
Of strings and bows
But arrows are flying in notes.
The notes.
I run a list of notations
And wonder why they make no sense,
When I realise I’m reading them in French.
The light of day is drowned in me
In all those things you claimed to see.
Lies,
I know they’re all lies.
But your notes are still on my wall,
And I can see them on my fingertips as well,
Where I played keys,
All your damage is here to see.

But my flower is reviving herself,
Flaming in morning light as she rises once more
To creep into my dreams,
As Lilith does,
To steal my thoughts and taunt me in my rest

And I wish I could have had the cake,
Eaten it without the guilt of the calories and the consequence,
I wish I could turn time around
And give you back what I took;

It didn’t belong to me
When I am just another whore in your bed.