Everytime I hear the melodies
I feel like hearing my infantile
cries in harmony,
piercing my eardrums with a
filigree-tipped spear up to
the base of my floating brain.
It brings back that long ago
when I first started my perpetual
wedlock with it.
filled with dormant dossier
of nostalgia and tenacious enigma,
that has changed my life into oblivion.
all is gone but the echo of
ripples tingling in my mind.
like the swinging of strings,
I want to hold it again,
but this time, forever close to me.
This enchanted piece of wood,
formed in amorously curvaceous proportion,
was made as if to constantly
remind me of the beautiful
creature called woman.
ever changing, ever frustrating,
yet always generous to give
fair chances to those who persist to
seek the price of its elusive charm.
It never failed to make my
veins and arteries vibrate in ecstacy,
drawning my reason to delirium
only to be awakened
by the drops of my saliva.

I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future I might capture someone's heart.

I can't believe that one day I will be able to cuddle in close.
I can't believe that one day a touch, a shiver, a model of heavenly love will be next to me.
I can't believe that I am allowed to write about this, that my hands are free to practice their dexterity.
One day I will use them to their full potential.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

My arms will one day reach out for a hand.
A hand to dance close to.
Feeling the movement of the music and using her heart as the beat.
Cheeks slightly flushed from the moment, skin soft to the touch.
A warmth overtaking my body in the knowledge of the present event at hand.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

Lips that slightly part.
An approach going ninety and hoping they receive you and go the other ten.
Lips slightly apart.
Hearts beating a little bit faster, goosebumps cascading over limbs.
Lips slightly apart, waiting for this to be our last first kiss.
I can't believe that day is not today.

Walks hand in hand, listening to the music that we both agreed upon.
Walks hand in hand arguing over what music will be played.
Walking hand in hand making decisions together, making them with Heaven on the mind.
Walking hand in hand in the dark torment of my soul, letting her know I am inside of my head more often than not.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future, I might capture someone's heart.

First encounter, movement, bass lines, and drums.
A string quartet for the cheesy one.
Rhythm sections and complimentary instrumentation just going with the flow.
For the mistakes of live music is what makes it beautiful.

And girl when I find you it is going to be beautiful.
Making music and making love.
Tracking the guitars across your abs.
Drinking coffee too late at night.
Sharing the thoughts I'm too scared to tell anyone except for God.

I can judge too much.
I can be set in my ways, and change is hard for me.
I'm going to make you crazy, my anxiety is going to get in the way.
But I can't believe that one day you will be there to handle me.
And I will be there for you.

Video games, and board games.
Movies, music, and tv too.
Reading books together and apart.
Being with friends and enjoying the moments apart.
Coming back together to keep moving past the start.

I can't believe I'm entertaining these thoughts.
I can't believe I'm allowed to doubt.
I really can't believe that I'm allowed to believe.
To believe in love, ***, and dreams.
To believe in warmth, security, and truth.
To believe in all the things that make me, me.

I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future, I might capture someone's heart.

I can't believe that one day I will be able to cuddle in close.
I can't believe that one day a touch, a shiver, a model of heavenly love will be next to me.
I can't believe that I am allowed to write about this, that my hands are free to practice their dexterity.
One day I will use them to their full potential.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

gallery of
the grievers
ween afar
in plane
to propel
the dance
yet triple
in wings
that triage
Mekong dry-cleaner
those drastic
maitres'd the
guns of
Queen Village
noise plays
guitar in
Market Square

My finger travels on strings 
Like train on tracks 
Sometimes like a local train 
Stopping at every other fret 
And sometimes like some express
Covering a whole lot of distance 
Before pausing for a moment or two.

My fingers slide 
From one string to another 
From one fret to another 
In turn creating symphonies
Which are sometimes an ethereal bliss
And sometimes an unfathomable chaos 
Like creaky old wooden doors 
On warm humid days 

One hand keeps the strings chained 
While the other sets them free 
Setting into motion 
An oxymoronic event 
And myriad frequencies 
Reinforce on each other 
Forming melodies of utter finesse.

They say all your prized possessions
Leave behind scars
And so my fingertips carry calluses 
From this wine hued acoustic creature
Signifying battle wounds 
Which i'll always be proud of 
Aren't you?