funérailles: dead chords in livin hands

lid up
lamp low
I settle into the bench
feet planted
back straight
shoulders loose
jaw tight
hands hover
thumbs low

those first notes are flawless

I can feel your ghost
can see the tilt of your head
the slow nod
with each perfectly executed note
can hear the scrape of your shoes
as you pace behind me
countin
waitin

my lips twitch
as I fold a wrong note
deep into the line
buried beautifully
so faint
no one else would ever hear it
but I know you would have

old panic floods my chest
waitin for your hands
for the twist of your fist
in my shirt
for my head yanked sideways
cheek pressed to the keys
forced to stare at the sound I spoiled

I breathe once
close my eyes
and remind myself why I’m here
my hands continue to play
slidin another fracture into the melody
then another
each one intentional
each one a rebellion
threaded thru beauty

left hand pounds the bass
in a slow heavy march
right hand races
in crisp bright runs
each wrong note hidden
deep inside of silk

you keep pacin my head
I smell the whiskey
I hear the slam of fists
the hard drag of your breath
and your patience growin thin
air refuses to fill my lungs
the room tilts
but I lean harder into the keys

the music swells
perfect on the surface
corrupted at the core
chords rumble thru the floor
poisoned notes spillin into the room
slips too fine for anyone alive to catch
but each one spits on your corpse
pisses on your grave

god
you loved the piece
said it was pure power and precision
iron discipline dressed in grief
proof that music only matters
when every note knows its place
you loved how Liszt made command sing
how every sound landed
exactly where it was demanded
we definitely don’t hear this one the same
but that’s why I’m here
that’s why I picked this one to break

my face splits into a shit eatin grin
I drive my hands harder
hammer into the vibrations
rip the treble wide open
til it screams against itself
I want every single hidden slip
to tear thru the dirt that covers you
to drag you back just long enough
to feel me destroy the music you loved

I end with a final deliberate wrong
hold it til the strings shudder
and die at my fingertips
no bow
no breath
only the remnants of a smile
and the damage I’ve done
your ghost can fuckin choke on it
this is mine now