Poetry

I'm not a huge fan of free verse. I usually feel like it's cheating, because if you don't have to think about it hard enough to make it fit into a rhyme scheme and meter, then you aren't thinking hard enough about it. However, I gave it a try this time. I couldn't get the idea into a standard Spencerian Sonnet...>_< style="font-weight: bold;">

The Strings

The strings fill her.

Keys strike steel, and resonate with lonely temperance,
Infecting her unreasonable ears.
Broken chords heal festering loves
Buried beneath flesh and above soul

The strings fill her

Rusted brass violates the silence
Protesting her cowardice and her patience.
The sound that reaches it’s way inside
Without remorse, and static is all she hears

The strings fill her

Clawing at wood and ivory
She is struck by hammers and impaled by bows
Waves that take everything secret she has
And leave it dead on the carpet

The strings fill her

With anticipation that debilitates
With despair that oppresses
With warmth that nauseates
As the music climaxes, and collapses

The strings fill her

The sound rapes her ears
Mercilessly deflowers her,
Until she is spent past salvation.
The music, never hesitant, leaves her there

The strings fill her

And leave her empty again.