A heart shaped harp.
Sits in the room.
Mirrors displaying each side of the harp, on each side of the heart.
The darkness fell on one side.
The light on the other.
As my heartstrings sowed hands of silk and thorns.
As I play the harp in the quiet room,
The light formed flowers,
The darkness formed thorns.
But all in all.
It made me.
It all adds up to a perfect plan.
To a beautiful flower it blooms.
So the darkness and pain played a part and so did the gloom.

h a r p

A lady that grew into a devil
With strong features and strong hands
Expected to be playing around with keys
Taunting all the life out

Sat still, dressed in white
Looking like an goddess against the flames
Plucking the strings of an angel's harp
And the strings of a hopeless heart

Capture my love with a harp and a bow
Sing high for my heart
but to shoot me, aim low.

I can't hold a harp
And mourn;
For the strings are too weak to bear,
The strain.

he is so cold hearted
stealing her sweetness
making her tears fall hard
like hail in an ice storm
Iike cigar smoke he envelopes
her air stealing her breath  
a bad habit she can't break
she curve around him  
like a beautiful harp
while he plays that song  
that breaks her heart

Love is the way the sun
plays the golden harp of
the Earth,
one million strings at once,
as it sets and lights the horizon's-
hills ablaze.

The way you play your harp,
effortlessly weaving your fingers
through those nylon strings
is oh so captivating.

The firm hold you have on your instrument,
secure, yet light enough,
being careful not to break
the mahogany frames.

The heedful ears you have,
used to listen to the echoing sounds,
your harp makes in response to
even the slightest flick of your finger.

The beautifully composed melody,
brought forth by the
dissonance and resolution
of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever known.

Wherever did you get the practice?
*Perhaps it was from toying with my heart.