Poetry
Issue #2
Friend
Our black and white fingers dance, each note sending a tremor of spirit into the void. Together, we breathe a fresh aura of harmony into every pore and vein.
We are nothing without one another. And as my fingerprints slide off the edges, we become as we were
Two distinct objects staring blankly at each other across the hollow silence.
Sometimes I feel like we’re strangers, looking at one another for the first time.
Sometimes we have fights. We shatter the silence into millions of tiny glass shards that splinter the skin at the back of my neck. The sharp, ebony fingers wrestle with mine and our vicious mantras bleed coldly over the smooth ivory bones.
Other times we mourn, for losses, for mistakes, for missed opportunities. And I drape my broken hands over its polished body and we grieve in melodies.