Descent

As usual, I will descend steadily in the sad strings of the violin, drink to your dreamy eyes as long as I can resist the oblivion I wish to get lost in. I know you won’t let me into your pain and perhaps I’ve learnt not to care anymore. I can no longer remember the last time you paused to ask how I am doing. Nowadays the indifference is mutual. Not that I’ve lost a flavour of myself… you must have been a dream in my vulnerable solitude. Not that I mourn your absence… I’ve been alone all along.