Alone

Sometimes alone isn’t a choice…sometimes it’s the only choice you have…for love is about flying and falling-crashing and lifting to the sky again-and sometimes that’s too much. Love isn’t love without madness, insanity, screaming, crying, running, flying…and again, sometimes that’s too much…so alone you must be, for sanity, for stability…alone except for the memories of you and music-the tinkle of your laughter, the bass of your yells, the melody of your whispers, and the symphony that was us…our love, our hate, our laughter and our pain…music soothes the savage beast? It soothes me, excites me, explains on me and lies about me, to me…does this make any sense? Does anything? And so I’m alone…

Originally written 10/31/10