Ficly

Songstress

Pining for you is like
being a mute songstress,
dressed in exquisite garb,
sitting in the corner,
in the dark, in the cold-
gathering dust; cobwebs.
My strings lay on the floor.
My face is tearing, cupped
in my delicate hands.
I’m desperate to scream,
but still nothing comes out;
I want to cry and sing,
but still nothing comes out;
I just want to be heard,
but still nothing comes out;
Melody’s in my head,
yet nothing comes out still.

All I ever wanted
was to sing you a song.

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