i. I remember you. You were made of music. Your backbone was a woodwind string and your footsteps kept time.
You were there when it all happened. I heard your tune in the sunshine and your rhythm in the rain and your soft percussion in the snake’s hiss before it bit my ankle.
I heard you on my way down and in the timbre of that sad goddess’ voice when she spoke our names. I swear I did. I swear you were there. I wouldn’t forget this sort of thing.
ii. I woke up on the riverbank and was told to follow you. I couldn’t see your face, so I looked at the water instead. I tried to catch my reflection in its glassy surface, but the image slipped through my grasp and I lost it in the blackened current.
You didn’t turn around when I called out your name. For the first time, I couldn’t remember if I had said the right one. I didn’t let it bother me. I could still read the line of your shoulders and they said everything was going to be okay.
Your shoulders told me to trust you, so of course I did. I just wish you would have talked to me instead of letting the lyre speak for you. I told you that too. You still didn’t turn around, but I think the story might have changed when your shoulders slumped the way they did.
iii. I kept calling out for you because I couldn’t hear myself over the river, and so I could never remember hearing my voice after I spoke. The only response you ever gave was the sound of brightly picked strings, but the river was so loud it silenced everything until I couldn’t remember how to read the song-notes you were leaving me.
When you didn’t turn around, I kept time with my footsteps. I chanted One and Two and One and Two and One to your back, hoping you’d remember to look behind for me. Then I realized that there is no tempo in the way water flows, so I lost my count.
You kept playing, though. You held that lyre so kindly, I wished my spine could be its strings.
iv. I can’t recall when you looked back, exactly. I know it was sometime after that snake’s percussive hiss and all your raindrop rhythms. I could see the sun, I think, peeking out from behind your body just a ways ahead of us. At any rate, it was definitely before we reached those sunshine tunes your music had told me about during our long walk.
I don’t remember what I said that finally made you turn around. Sometimes I wish I did.
v. I met a man the other day. He spoke in hymns and his bones cracked like they were used to producing a different sound entirely. Later, when he forgot all his tunes, he held my hand and plucked my fingers like they were strings.
I tried to introduce myself, but I couldn’t remember how my name sounded out loud. In fact, I couldn’t remember my name at all. Eventually he wandered off. He looked so sad, the way those shoulders sloped, I was almost glad he didn’t look back before he disappeared.
I thought I heard him by the fields awhile back. Or was it the river? I’m not sure anymore, although I could have sworn I was. I could have sworn he was there.
I promise I met him though. I wouldn’t forget that sort of thing.
The Death of Eurydice (Told in Five Movements) || Emma-Lee M.
just saying when oscar isaac was alive in the 15th century he was probably the muse of like ten different artístes who fought for the right to paint and sculpt him
hmm just woke up and wondering why the FUCK i typed “when” instead of “if”
April felt like it lasted forever……but now that it’s not April I have completely no memory of any April ever and I can’t seem to recall the last 30 days of my life.
Again with the “trespassing” a phrase used in the Starbucks situation.
Trespassing does not stand when you have been brought to a table, given
menus and then refuse to move for another customer.
Yo I live in this area bro, and when I tell you this shit is real out here. These white folks are fucking nutty frfr. This lady called the police on me and my friend and said “two 13 black girls are walking around smoking weed and drinking”. She had a cigarette and I had a fucking Snapple my nigga. Smh. We’re both in our 20s bro. Plano is shitty asf.
