Ode To One I Know

To be one who yearns for intimacy

Though afraid of touch,

An existence made by a person’s spite

Upon an innocent soul

Latibule

As all the sounds of reality

Become too much

I retreat into my skull

And sit at my piano.

Hands held in front of me,

What others see as floating hands,

I feel keys moving under the force of my hands,

What they experience as silence, in relation to my hands

I hear a beautiful symphony.

What they know as nothing,

I know as my latibule