Weapon

I bury my denial in music. The passionate tones are like a weapon against my own tempest of uncertainty and worry. Future sits just as stoicly as ever, and I wonder why he ever put up with me in the first place. I try to tell him stories; he calls them out as lies. I try to ask him questions; he says he won't answer whys. So I smile and wave goodbye; he pretends not to have seen.