Untitled

We play those bittersweet keys,

tickling ivory strings.

and do we endure for music

or for love?

Days melted like red on rock;

I spoke your falsetto.

But the rests are longer

now, and the sun never quite

sets up here.

Frozen in that warming dusk

I can see the way your gaze

used to fix on my lips.

Now, the rust squeaks and

the old gate is always closing,

and you become a

melody trapped in a song.

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**I don't want to keep this as "untitled" but a title really just hasn't hit me so let me know what you think.

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