Whenever our hands
accidentally touch...
I feel electric charges
crawling up my arms
like vines.
Your soft, supple hands
brush mine and
awkward silence commences
as I scan more items to check out.
Your warmth penetrates
my frigid skin and I
no longer feel
devoid of **love.

The heart composes music
that nobody can hear
except yourself.

No guy and girl would EVER
want to watch a movie that had
no soundtrack
or go to a concert just to see
the people play their instruments.
Yes, you may claim to have music
as your hobby but many others are
extremely passionate about it too.
Without music, what would have
happened to Bach, Beethoven, Haydn,
Scarlatti, Clementi, Vivaldi, and others?
Saying "it's just music" is like saying
"it's just life."
Life is beautiful, passionate, tragic, comedic, playful, intense and even stressful sometimes.
Think about it.
Life and music go hand in hand.
Instead of saying "it's just music"
I urge you to say
**"let there be music!"

My body heaves and convulses
while tears stream down my face
blurring my vision
like a camera lens in fog.

My mind was sick.
I had just watched the movie
The Pianist about the Holocaust.
The Holocaust was sick.
A man in a wheelchair fell
from a tenth story window,
dumped out by the SS.
Sickness.

My body was sick.
I could not speak.
I could barely cry for that matter.
All I could do was sob.

My spirit was sick.
I hadn't prayed in a whole month
and God and I were floating
farther   and         farther            apart.

My soul was moved.
I heard the real star in The Pianist
Wladyslaw Szpilman play
Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor.
(that is NOT a hashtag)

That was when I broke down.

I get most of my clothes from
hand-me-downs or thrift stores.

So what?

What if I like being unique?

We love a good introspection.
A lot of thinking-outside-the-box
a dash of sponaneity with a pinch
of romance.
A lot of pondering, wandering
wondering and pandering.
We crave intimacy and to woo we say,

"Look at my poetry."

Our minds are wired differently.
We tend to see things not as they are
but what they can be.
We are silently affectionate but rarely
spout off our poems in public.
We love deeply, fall hard and
live out our lives according to our
composition books.