There is so little difference between the cop yelling hold hold hold hold hold and the warble of an opera tenor

Between the 

Between silent waiting for the baton and silent just drowned

This is the symphony you left me in 

A place not even you can return to 

Alone in these sounds I tried to write in rests, I tried to pull your part clear out of the cacophony but you 

In your symptoms could not see the tsunami

I wrote timpani warnings and piccolo shrieking in for the depth and pace of my own panic, which you did not see or could not acknowledge 

They will try, soon, to diagnose me with bipolar for those highs and lows, written always in counterpoint to you 

Symphony that did not belong to me, chaos I did not know could be orchestrated by someone who loved me