August 1, 2010

little box of music

A din of low notes
Written in one language
Of hearts
And read in another

The meanings tumble about
In a head of wishes
And dwindling hopes

If I could write
I could put it right
A melody of math
And refrain
Solid numbers and nuances
Would glide across the page
With facts and appropriate figures

If I could put two sentences together
I could touch piano keys
And ukelele strings
Two at a time

To tell you everything

Telling you I'm free from love

But lonely of embrace

Like a loud Johnny Cash song
Echoing in an empty metal factory
With a concrete foundation

If I could communicate
I would touch your shoulder
My lips to your ear
Softly whispering the reason I exist
For you
In the private silence of a serenade

Kissing your lips and face
Gliding across your chest
Holding your waist
Wrapping your legs with mine

Tasted skin
Wasted in my dreams
To the song of No
Or Know
But not now
Maybe never

Still riding the sound
Of your voice that lives in my head
When we don't speak
I hear you tell me
Of the you that you tell me
In poetic words written for other concertos

I don't know why
The chorus of your soul
Dances with the angsty cry of mine

I don't know why
Your words have come so close

It's just me
In a music box
Spinning in an endless circle
Locked away
A plastic sojourner
Remaining for the opening

Open me up
See your reflection

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