I love music.
I hate how it captures the totality of a moment (forever)
the depth, the smell, the feel.
More so the terrible than the great.
Four minutes become a deceptively ruinous echo
Prying open old chests
Blowing the dust of times past into your nostrils
Suffocating you on a phantom pain that you can only recall
not relive.
It hurts to remember how much a time hurt,
And that the burden of the pain has already passed.
So you are left with an unbearable lightness
of being.
Tortured to tearlessness.
I love music.