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Alannah Shevenell

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

10 poems·Since June 2019
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A Broken Music Note

June 27, 2019

The audience is full.

There's a camera in the back,

forever the world is watching.

I'll send it to her tomorrow.

 

The stage welcomes our turn.

We're creating sound,

music.

Feeling the color with every note.

Seeing the notes dancing with pure and raw emotion.

The happiness grows with each musical breath.

 

I sent it to her.

Odd,

she didn't respond.

 

I hear whispers in my home.

Closed doors attempt to conseal the secrets,

but the sound silently flows through to the other side.

I listen.

I wish I didn't.

I wish my ears were lying.

But I did and they weren't.

As I listen each dancing music note comes crashing down.

As I listen every color fades to grey.

As I listen the happiness dies.

 

My Body becomes a storm.

The rain is pouring.

The thunder is screaming.

The lighting strikes leave deep and agonizing scars.

 

Now I know why she didn't respond.

 

The drugs.

They stole my rose.

The drugs.

They stole her life.

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