We Collapsed Like a Half-Finished Song

A cycle of poems «You Taught My Hands How to Pray on Your Body»

We started so strong, with a melody bright,
A chorus that soared in the pale morning light.
But somewhere mid-verse, the music gave way -
Now silence remains where we meant to stay.

I still hum the tune when the night gets too long,
The bridge we were writing - the one we got wrong.
One word left unspoken, one note out of time…
And our symphony ended before its prime.

We collapsed like a half-finished song,
A beautiful mess that didn’t last long.
All the passion poured into every refrain,
But no final verse to ease the pain.
We had the fire, the rhythm, the rhyme…
Just never enough time to finish our line.

You played me like music on worn vinyl days,
Turned my gray world to color with just your gaze.
We wrote lyrics on napkins in coffee-stained ink,
Dreamed of stages and crowds, how the whole world would blink
At the love in our voices, raw, wild, and true -
But the record stopped spinning when I lost you.

I still hum the tune when the night gets too long,
The bridge we were writing - the one we got wrong.
One word left unspoken, one note out of time…
And our symphony ended before its prime.

We collapsed like a half-finished song,
A beautiful mess that didn’t last long.
All the passion poured into every refrain,
But no final verse to ease the pain.
We had the fire, the rhythm, the rhyme…
Just never enough time to finish our line.

Your guitar still leans by the bedroom door,
Strings rusting softly, wanting more.
I tried to play it once - hit a chord that broke,
Like the sound of a promise I couldn't evoke.
Now it sits there mute, like a prayer never said…
A requiem born, but left for dead.

They say every masterpiece needs a close,
A final crescendo, a bow, a repose.
But ours just faded mid-breath, mid-flight -
No warning, no key change, no signal, no light.
Not a smash, not a crash - just a whisper, then gone…
Like a lullaby sung, but never sung on.

So I keep the tape rolling in case you come near,
In case you pick up the mic, wipe away fear.
But the silence stays thick, and the truth is now known:
We collapsed like a half-finished song -
And the world never heard how we were supposed to end… alone.