The Lost Pitch of an Orchestra

November 6, 2011
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The smell of their blood
overwhelms me with fear and angst.
Violins shimmer.
Harps murmur.
Clarinets shiver.
The orchestra rises to its loudest amplitude
as I unscramble the beats of my lost heart.
Lost in their swordfights of sentences trying to conquer the naive race.
The steady slither of his body
carves through my mind as his gentle yet harsh touch
brushes across my neck. I see my body tender.
Broke.
Beaten.
Burdened.
Burdened by him.
His hand on me.
Oppressive.
Elegant.
Talk.
My voice rings in my head.





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