I’m trying to leave things in the spaces between words. Hanging the meaning there. Not that it should be hidden. Not that I don’t want it understood. It’s just where if feels most comfortable. Where the pause means so much.
And the music plays on. The melancholy hopeful sadness. Accordions and violins. Voices from other places. Other times. Yet still perfectly from. Right. Now. Wrapping around my heart.
And none of it is about what you think. Of course. Drawn into my head space, making jumps I can barely follow. Losing the path as it goes. Maybe it touches on it. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it means more writing. Or more silence. Not sure just yet.