Painted Elephants and Portioned Keys

There is a sign along the highway that is too dark now to read

But says the arteries and heartlands come easily to bleed.

So cut a path as careless as millions came before

But don't regard the letters that crawl upon the floor

See, I know you never opened them, or ventured there to try

I understand your troubles, like the buzzing of the fly

I never swallowed up the quiet quite as clear as now

Between the sheets and shivers, with sweat upon my brow

Sharing another death with another deadly little lie

To drown the only serpent, saying, "This has got to die."

You can keep me pinned, because it's easier to tease

One hundred miles away with your whisper on the breeze.

But please, continue reaching for strands that may appear

I have no qualms in drowning, if only to feel clear

Of serpents quick to tell me, "Your strength is in your crutch."

The keys in your piano are cooler to the touch.

Mine have shifted sound, like a crescendo cut in twain.

And music is the dirt that covers full the flowered lane.

A painted elephant has trampled down the study wall.

I was busy with another one, already fit to crawl.

She laid the serpents down inside the lacquered case

And my letters become notes that soon forgot your face.

Dance was dance, my fingers danced along the ivory board.

Not a hint of sorrow sounding sunk from any chord.

She guides my hand in penning this, the last you'll ever see

And if it's never opened, then it's of no loss to me.

You took the car, you took your hand and found another tune.

No longer will your visage inspire me to croon.

I could choose to flower your image into rhyme,

But you can't paint an elephant quite as well as time.