bedroom guitar

tell me a story of love from afar
that has never seen the strings of a bedroom guitar
nor flowed through the veins of a lonely pen
an untarnished fable of whys and whens.

sing me a melody of love from beyond
a tune when released gives my dreams form
words wrapped thick in anticipation
songs that exist only in your imagination.

send me the truth in your clear brown eyes
that neither song nor tale could disguise
let your lips shun the lies prepared
as your soul bares all that it could bare.

i am a sucker for musicians. especially those whose bodies seem to meld into their instruments the moment they pick them up. they don’t play music, they become music. they stop being human and start being an entity of movement, grace, emotion.

they look different when performing. their eyes are almost too frightening to look at because they expose completely the heart of the performer. perhaps musicians close their eyes not only to immerse more deeply into their art, but also to spare whoever’s watching a forbidden glance into who they are.

it’s a look i watch out for, along with the looks of love i already stay attuned to. it’s a thrill to catch that secret glimpse into a musician’s soul, lost, self-absorbed, selfish…but still beautiful. captivating.

right now, i want to be in love, even with just a look or an expression. i want to see right through someone and have him know that i know.

sigh. it’s been a rough day.

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