I was in a bar, smiling so,
a beautiful girl looked in my eyes,
and said "let it go",
who she was, I do not know.

I ache for the pinch
of the coiled steel beneath
each finger tip
pressing down sloppy
thoughts and sheepish
wishes.
The polished red wood
sliding across my palms
each pluck sending out
the perfect tone to settle
qualms
and topple empires
while building up cardiac muscle
never mind the fumbles
caused by unuse and long nights
of abuse
But even if I had the strings
it wouldn't change a thing
not a thing

My head of stone
won't let anyone in
these days

My brain hurts
all day
from the constant
growing pains

I      miss      the       days      when
   things        were      good    or
bad