I love the way
I make you squeal for me
And I don't even have to feel bad about it.

I love the way
You go red when I approach,
But then you're always bright red.

Your neck is so long and
The lines on it make
You so much more approachable.

Your delicate features
Are functional
And I know how to use them.

I love the way
My hands feel like liquid over you and
You moan at my touch

I love the way
I picked you
And I pick you every day.

We make sweet music together, or
At least,
Some day we might.

For now we can just copy
Other music.
Beautiful.

His freckled fingers tickle silver chords;

His blessed talent flourishes brightly.

hands like fireworks blazing music soars,

I’m always desperate to hold them tightly.

Michael’s smile illuminates the sky

As handsome gestures strum the universe.

With lips quiet, he is one charming guy!

I pray that we will nevermore disperse!

Yet outside aura does not compare to

His beating heart within to share the truth.

A helpful man and open to pursue

One silly lady with love and “I-do.”

Delightful he is outside and inside,

How honoring it is to be his bride!

He sat there
on the edge of my bed,
playing with the strings
on his guitar,
stringing me along.

Pulling me closer
with his voice,
beautifully bruised,
carrying me in.

The moonlight complementing
his every note,
every inch of him.

Buried diep.
Lost within a fantasy.
Lost in this room
with a melody,
and a voice
so addictive.

He sat there,
smoke and moonlight,
playing his guitar.

Leave me hoping
Let's go eloping
You and I need to render
Can't talk to me
Unless I've got my fender

Leave your track marks
On the table
And you said I wasn't stable

Leave for your love of lust
I thought I could trust
You were just another pawn
I stayed up till dawn

Leave the house at daybreak
Daydreams are awake
Try to keep me by the lake
I will surely make
You understand

It's propped against the wall,
anxiously awaiting to be played
sometimes it takes week
but often just a day

When she takes it in her hands
and begins to tune it up
it wakes up from its sleep
feeling the comfort of her touch

As she starts to strum along
the flowing melody is found
her voice begins to rise
my heart smiles at the sound

Eavesdropping just to hear her
because she doesn't understand
how I'm overwhelmed with joy
and that I'm her biggest fan

It's not the way she plays
or how beautiful she sings
it's the humbleness she shows
and the serenity it brings

To have that kind of passion
without needing to be praised
my daughter's gift sent from above
gratefully received in many ways

I miss the slip and slide
Along the strings
Across the neck
Amid the noise
Among the silence.
You loved me, and I should have too
But there isn’t much
More that I’ve got
Left to give.
So take your guitar
And your broken heart
And leave mine here
To mend

*(r.e.)

Little smile
Written on a sheet of notebook paper
Guitar strings
Plucked by a boy who's midnight hair masks his true personality

Shy kid of 17
No visible emotions just strings
Guitar strings

You look at him with broken promises from past lovers tattooed to your pupils
While the only thing made permanent in his are music notes
And though those are there for you too
The cons outweigh the pros

An open mic night
Who could've guessed that what I was planning on as
"just another open mic"
might have turned into this

But things don't always go as planned
For me they almost never do
And while I usually try to view the glass as as full
More times than not things turn out the opposite way
Leaving me...
Half empty

So think of this poem as your warning
I know more than anyone that sometimes it may seem like my baggage is deemed too heavy to carry
And if it appears to be too much for you
Just do me a favor and let me know before I unpack into your space

Guitar strings caught my attention
Loose threads on the sweater of my unraveling attention span

Take a chance
Take the plunge
Let yourself fall into a new romance
Don't think
Just.. Do.

Our love is like learning how to play the guitar
We'll make mistakes along the way
Get ourselves hurt strumming the strings
Learn how to be patient
Go beyond the limits sometimes and get carried away with the idea of curiousity

Learn new chords, new songs, new things that eventually will lead us to the right track
Take a quick break from everything and just cool it off when we get tired from playing
But then get back on the beauty of never giving up in order to finish the song you're learnig
Or in our case.. What we've started

With each passing strum
With each callus peeled on our skin, our hands or finger will be stronger, rougher and harder.. just like us
And then after all these, we'll perfectly play the most beautiful song and melody there is
A song and melody called "Us" or "Love" or "Forever"
or "Together", whatever

- MMM

A rainy day,
an acoustic guitar,
a notebook,
a studio apartment overlooking the city.
"I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes."
I don't remember the name of the poet who wrote that
but it couldn't describe my life
any more accurately.
I want to measure my mornings
in spoonfuls of coffee
and my nights in empty cigarette boxes.
I want to measure my happiness
in rainy days and soft kisses,
poetry,
I want to measure my recovery
in full meals and trash bags full of razors,
in tears shed by my eyes
instead of my skin.
I want to measure my free time
in independent movies
and 4 different kinds of music-
indie,
hard rock,
classic rock,
and pop-punk.
I want to measure my infinities
in starry night skies,
galaxies, constellations,
physics books I got in middle school
and his eyes,
his smile.
I want to measure my victories
in minutes without smoking
and my losses
in blaring headphones
and labyrinths of white smoke.
I want to measure my work ethic
in sick days
and missed bills.
I want to measure my heart
in belly dancing
and ***** converse,
in beanies
and minutes spend holding him.
I want to measure my life
in written chapters
and highlighted smiles
in blue Christmas lights
and TV show references,
in my favourite movies and novels and songs
and my dependence on myself,
in cans of Peace Tea
and Pringles
and not regretting eating,
in pens that help the words flow
and laughs,
smiles,
hugs,
kisses,
and hope that in the future
things will be alright...
More alright than they are now.