clouds like this

You told me once that the sound of cracking vertebrates was music. I didn't understand because I couldn't see the beauty in fragility.  The raw, utterly simplistic emotion.  So unnaturally natural. Stripped down to your bare bones, you are completely alone. You have nothing to hide yourself and yet nothing to hide.  And now, I can hear it.  The music in those marrow-filled support systems that turn to dust with the blink of an eye.  Our planet isn't getting any bigger, it's shrinking around us.  Closing us in, like a lock down.  And we need to bleach our eyelids to remove the stains but collect the memories in our skeleton.  It will become so full that it will begin to sing.  And no one can hear it but you.  But you are me and I am you.  So, just listen.  For on those cold, stormy nights when your heart is full of fear the song will embrace you.  Enveloping you, enveloping me in a warm radiance of nostalgia.  Memories hurt but without them we are nothing but a bag of soundless bones.