The chords to my soul

drift along rivers of poetry,

and the song of my heart

whispers on

in silence.

And fingers numb

try to strike the chord,

but when the pen bleeds,

my soul weeps.

And the song to my heart

carries on

high above waves of static

but silenced by glass.

My heart is a prism

catching light,

but what if darkness turned it cold?

And the strings to my soul

wish to sing across the page,

and my heart cries to be heard.

My song carries on.


Along The Lines of Life

by, Melissa R. Mendelson