Upon the Chords

Upon the chords of dissonance,
Where all that exists is mere ignorance,
Is where I cry the memories of a bygone romance.

A song is heard in the distance, fragile,
The lovers' dance, strong, yet futile,
Intertwined in the notes of chance, so hostile.

There is a sweet melodious fall of water:
The rumours of a childish daughter
Crying the pain I cursed upon her slaughter.

A poised pathetic prelude
Played so putridly by a melancholy solitude,
Burnt in the ashes of ineptitude.

The echoes of a silent minuet,
A drop of time I want to forget,
A melody that exists as a repeated regret.