She thinks,
I lie when I say,
'Music is my life',
She could not understand,
When I explained that it was not for some fad,
Not for some thing to make me seem,
That I could ever fit in,
Music held me together,
With a Classical thread,
That strings itself into my breaking heart,
Slowly helping my tears depart,
The base,
Of the Jazz band,
Helps my smile come more easily,
And the drums of her band,
Wake me,
From a non-sleeping dream,
Reminding me,
That I have my own heart beat,
And when,
The Classical thread,
Becomes lose and I begin to feel the pain,
I listen to her,
Scream in a microphone about her own bitter reality,
Her screaming rips the thread from my heart,
The pain,
I have fought longer than time to keep away,
Comes back,
And this time,
I cannot use the bleeding,
I cannot use my own pain,
To push it away,
To forget her stinging, biting, memory,
Promises,
That hold me together,
Hold me tighter,
Than any hug she gave me,
Promises that slowly,
Tear me apart,
In this beautiful trade of music.