Lost Track #4, The first time

Tense plucky synth piano stabs punctuate jagged glitch textures over a dark, evolving synth bass progression, Sparse percussion heightens suspense, while a melodic synth-driven interlude offers contrast before an FX-laden blast beat climax, featuring abrupt key and tempo shifts

I believe the wind has a story to tell,  
And sometimes I feel like the wind;  
For I am only a rustling in the trees,  
A whisper you never noticed in the day.

If I were to blow my breeze loud enough,  
I’d just become a hurricane,  
And the song of a hurricane doesn’t resound—  
It devastates your home;  
It ravages your town.  
I am the wind.

One day I'll become a hurricane,  
Crying out for meaning,  
Breaking for the tremor  
In your voice.  
I am the wind.

I can't see the water;  
I ignore the clouds,  
Stirring up dust,  
Hoping you'll  
Hear me out.

---

She was cloaked in white,  
A fog-born phantom after the rain,  
With the aftertaste of cyanide;  
Her eyes a mirror of shame.

Her smile, a swinging pendulum,  
Beneath a grandfather clock,  
Counting the whole millennium.

She couldn’t be in the flock—  
Her feathers, like a golden calf,  
In an army of followers?  
Waiting to dance,  
Before He descends to split in half  
Every one of her second chances.

---

But for now her time was with me,  
Between my sheets; and though I dream  
Of fancy birds and church jubilee,  
Her unreadable eyes tore the seam  
Of what was imagined and what was real  
To me.

---

There is a creak on the third step,  
Heading up the stairs.  
I don’t think I ever paid much mind,  
But today it sounded like a voice—  
Your voice, in fact.

I felt like I was going insane,  
But it sounded like it was saying:  
“See ya.”  
And I felt fine,  
But I'm surely not fine.

---

I'm a tree stripped by rain's acid bite;  
Bark peeled, leaves in flight—  
Gray, but roots push wide,  
Sprouting strong on every side.

But as nice as it should be  
To be rooted with surety,  
I’m in a lonely part of the forest,  
Where the sun doesn’t shine in its purity.

So I lean my naked branches,  
Reaching toward an endless sky,  
In hopes a gentle gust will lift  
And let my spirit fly.

Knowing this tree may weaken,  
Sway, and shiver;  
But grounding roots will hold steady  
Through each storm forever.

---

Instead, I'll just survive;  
Wake up and realize  
I'm supposed to be fine.  
Even when

My hands burn bright red,  
Blistered from grasping your soul  
That lay on the empty side of my bed,  
Where you refused to grow old.

I suppose I always knew,  
Despite how we danced and played,  
Or how wonderful you were to look at,  
That all of it will gently fade.

But I do not regret a moment passing  
Where I was yours and made you happy—  
In those precious snippets of laughing.  
So while I’m sad you’ll never suffer my sappy  
Attempts to make you feel less crappy  
With a kiss and tumble in dark memory,  
I’ll always remind you how great you are,  
Even if you never needed me.  
I’m trying not to stray too far

In case  
One day  
You do.

So, suffer this one last time:  
I love you.  
I miss you.  
I'm so afraid I'm forgetting you.

2860/7500

I believe the wind has a story to tell, And sometimes I feel like the wind; For I am only a rustling in the trees, A whisper you never noticed in the day. If I were to blow my breeze loud enough, I’d just become a hurricane, And the song of a hurricane doesn’t resound— It devastates your home; It ravages your town. I am the wind. One day I'll become a hurricane, Crying out for meaning, Breaking for the tremor In your voice. I am the wind. I can't see the water; I ignore the clouds, Stirring up dust, Hoping you'll Hear me out. --- She was cloaked in white, A fog-born phantom after the rain, With the aftertaste of cyanide; Her eyes a mirror of shame. Her smile, a swinging pendulum, Beneath a grandfather clock, Counting the whole millennium. She couldn’t be in the flock— Her feathers, like a golden calf, In an army of followers? Waiting to dance, Before He descends to split in half Every one of her second chances. --- But for now her time was with me, Between my sheets; and though I dream Of fancy birds and church jubilee, Her unreadable eyes tore the seam Of what was imagined and what was real To me. --- There is a creak on the third step, Heading up the stairs. I don’t think I ever paid much mind, But today it sounded like a voice— Your voice, in fact. I felt like I was going insane, But it sounded like it was saying: “See ya.” And I felt fine, But I'm surely not fine. --- I'm a tree stripped by rain's acid bite; Bark peeled, leaves in flight— Gray, but roots push wide, Sprouting strong on every side. But as nice as it should be To be rooted with surety, I’m in a lonely part of the forest, Where the sun doesn’t shine in its purity. So I lean my naked branches, Reaching toward an endless sky, In hopes a gentle gust will lift And let my spirit fly. Knowing this tree may weaken, Sway, and shiver; But grounding roots will hold steady Through each storm forever. --- Instead, I'll just survive; Wake up and realize I'm supposed to be fine. Even when My hands burn bright red, Blistered from grasping your soul That lay on the empty side of my bed, Where you refused to grow old. I suppose I always knew, Despite how we danced and played, Or how wonderful you were to look at, That all of it will gently fade. But I do not regret a moment passing Where I was yours and made you happy— In those precious snippets of laughing. So while I’m sad you’ll never suffer my sappy Attempts to make you feel less crappy With a kiss and tumble in dark memory, I’ll always remind you how great you are, Even if you never needed me. I’m trying not to stray too far In case One day You do. So, suffer this one last time: I love you. I miss you. I'm so afraid I'm forgetting you.

0/500