A few years ago I bought my first guitar
I had no aspirations of becoming a star
I've never wanted to be recorded, produced, or sold
After you left I just needed something to hold

You're the only reason I play guitar
Playing is my way of healing your lost love scars
Sometimes I still wonder where you are
Yeah, you're the only reason I play guitar

Guitars are made for feeling
Guitars will stay around
Guitars are built for healing
My guitar won't let me down
Like you did, like you did, like you did

I must be at a crossroads in my life
Seems I can't tell the difference between wrong and right
And you ain't helping things by being gone
How I wish you could hear this guitar moan

You're the only reason I play guitar
Playing is my way of healing your lost love scars
Sometimes I still wonder where you are
Yeah, you're the only reason I play guitar

Guitars are made for feeling
Guitars will stay around
Guitars are built for healing
My guitar won't let me down
Like you did, like you did, like you did

You're the only reason I play guitar
Playing is my way of healing your lost love scars
Sometimes I still wonder where you are
Yeah, you're the only reason I play guitar

I tried strumming the strings of a broken guitar,
I tried rebuilding a city back up from its ruins,
I tried singing the words of a distant lullaby,
But had I known once a rose has tipped its head
Watering it would become useless;
I would've left our love's broken pieces
For the wind to come and sweep away.

Head down looking at the strings that she plucked on her guitar,

Hair just short above the collar of her shirt,

Mouthing to every piece that she's playing,

Nodding to every notes that she pressed,

It's hard not to fall to that sight.


But one must remember the danger of falling,

And denying it will only make it worse.

All that one can do is stay,

In what follows, at least that much is better for both of them.


-HIY

I sit in my room
and
notice my guitar
filling me with its radiance
a glimmer of light
shining brightly upon the
softly colored mahogany
it beckons,
calling me to strike ever-so-gently the
strings

to paint on the canvas of
silence
such is my calling

I reach for the instrument but
things are
different, this time
I find not the vibrant breath of music but
the self,
determined and
willing to lay-bare its heart to
the world
my eyes are opened
I am aware and
I breathe life into my lungs
for the first time