Crying Out Loud

A phone call, like a harbinger of a storm - even before the words are spoken, it is clear that everything is about to collapse. Restraint crumbles before our eyes, and suddenly ‘boys don't cry’ turns into a ridiculous excuse as tears flow like a prolonged downpour. The heart plays the same sad chords over and over, and thoughts spin on repeat: what I didn't say, what I didn't have time to say, what I lost. The world seems to keep turning, but inside there is a pause, a frozen point. The music is like a diary of unrestrained pain that finally decides to break out.