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The keys of black and white played a haunting lullaby
Pale fingers caressed them like the delicate wings of a glass butterfly
A melancholy tune sprung up from the bony hands of the dark-eyed boy
No tears fell from them onto the instrument but there wasn't a single ounce of joy
The finger-tips travelled the song throughout the vintage room
A shadow of sorrow sat upon the oak piano, and over the boy, it loomed
A fine strand of his black hair touched the white key as it dropped from the head
The music continued as the strand kissed the shallow pool of red
The open wrists of his hovered over the keyboard,
And ivory skin glistened against the bloodied chords
The wounds had no will to heal, and sound of drops followed the beautiful melody
The scarlet and the despairing tune intertwined to complete the rhapsody
The blood filled the gaps of the keys and ignited his revenge for the world
The room finally went silent as his white fingers closely curled
The hands that played sweet tunes turned frozen blue
So, the boy blew out his dying breath in rue
His dark head laid upon the still red board
A crinkle of paper touched the pool,
And perhaps longed to play the last note.
-Grisha. S
YOU ARE READING
DROPS OF SCARLET
PoetryFeatured on @WattpadPoetry reading list 'Stygian Skies' "I dream as a soulless spirit where the only music I hear is the drops of scarlet" This poetry collection follows the tales of three women lost in the past and objects they surround themselves...
