Pickle Jar

We built it on the empty air,

like elastic we stretched it far,

and you plucked out it’s single note

-kept it in a pickle jar.

The distance was our binding string

and you were the Minstrel King.

When it was taut you made it sing,

and it would ring and it would ring.

Now all that lies between us is a breath,

a rolled up spool, unplayable.

I can’t make you speak your mind,

everything’s become unsayable.

The distance was our binding string

and you were the Minstrel King.

When it was taut you made it sing,

and it would ring and it would ring.

Walls are built to be knocked down,

lines drawn to be crossed.

I gambled on the breaking breath,

but it held firm, I guess I lost.

The distance was our binding string

and you were the Minstrel King.

When it was taut you made it sing,

and it would ring and it would ring.

You should have said “I love you” back,

the words would’ve jumped from the tip of your tongue.

But like a good Samaritan you dissuaded them,

you saved their lives and killed our song.