The silence suffocates
But the piano sounds off-
out of tune.
Black bench, black keys, white ambiguities.
I sit on the dust covered bench, displacing the quiet accumulation of unwanted soot
This is proof of my existence.

I think of you...

Yes, there is fear in silence, and there are the subtle nuances of sorrow caught within the web of silence.
But there is comfort in silence as well.

In my head, I’m singing a song with you.
And in my head, I’m thinking of you.
Here, in front of this this dusty, out of tune piano, I play a song.. alone.
Perhaps it sounds worn out because of the time and dust enveloping its strings…
or perhaps because it is tired of hearing this song.
But my heart swells.
Even if my ears cannot hear the progression of notes pouring out onto the keyboard.. it’s too late. I feel it in my fingertips, the vibrations.
I feel each key press down and release,
I feel the hammer hit the strings..
Here is our song:
the song for the deaf, the song for the mute,
the song for all who feel
And I think of you,
because you’ve made me feel.