Over the child’s shoulder
My music hurts him now, like me he remembers. Such a joyful, simple thing has been turned into pain by what you have done.
The chords I play cause him to sway and his lips to move as he copies your words, and then he catches himself. You are no longer here.
I think of you also, I look away from my friends and over the child’s shoulder I see you, laughing in your new world.
You are not really there, there is no-one. You are far from me now. But the child remembers as do I, he remembers your gentle song as I played these simple chords and I remember your arched back and the glint of the soft light on your teeth.
I cannot change the chords, I have only a few songs as my memory fades.
But the pain is an addiction, and so I play on.
Notes from the Word Hoard
The way the exercise works is explained here.
because of you
we drink and we talk
now it’s cold
I won’t be with you
I know must you
With laughing instead
Over the child’s shoulder * Selected
I love this picture from Thessaloniki and expected the short story inspired by it to be much longer.
But after just a few words I stopped. I might expand this from this flash story into something longer.