FFF - Cycle 18 - Raw

A poem submitted for Flash Fiction Friday.
Prompt: PHOTO (below)

Genre: Open

Word Count: Approximately 1,000 words

Deadline: Wednesday, February 16, 2011 4:30 pm EST

There's a worn patch

Where my elbow-through-denim

Bruised the body

As I strummed.

A tiny blood stain

Rests near the first fret

Left by my ring finger

When we played all night.

And I broke a tuning key

Trying to run for cover

When the rain startled us

That day in New York.

You remember how it felt

To strum, to sing, to unify?

We transformed ourselves

Into aether and atmosphere.

We were breathed in

By gods who breathed back;

Our muscles remembered,

Our minds unfettered.

I touch the neck and brush the strings

And memory echos back

Through the body in faint waves.

It's almost like you are here.

And I am grateful for

Whatever whiff breezes by

Carrying with it your scent,

As proof I haven't forgotten.

Your absence dims my senses.

I can't fly without you.

But I can be a person

Who knows what music feels like...or knew.

If you are gone, you're gone

But not without a trace

I present my soul

As evidence.