with violin in hand with
sand in your pocket
i go i step again
where will i find that
golden bird

I live I want to live
find the last treasure
to burn to burn
and darkness and darkness
never know

play a tune
one melody of the world
play the misty of mist
but fog and gloom
and not know darkness

13.12.18

i play words like my violin
smoothly at times but harsh and rough when i forget how to play
forget what words to use
how my bow slides across
how too much vibrato can make it all sound fake
how hyperbole can make it all sound fake
motifs scattered throughout
taint the sound the words
with familiarity with nuance
with you my dear
there is no hyperbole
no vibrato needed
no need for such accenting
for you make my words
my sound smooth as chocolate from the get go


for i never understood what it meant for a kiss to be sweet,
until my lips met yours.
for i never understood what it meant for a person to be warm,
until my arms wrapped around you.
you were warm to me
accepted me even though every inch of you was scared to
was telling you to back down
and i cannot thank you enough for that

you say that your pieces are scattered
the truth is, so are mine
so lets let two perspectives persist and permit
a love that leaves lies behind and lets lips be
so that broken pieces on the floor can not be looked at as flaws
but as scores
as scars
of a past that continues to be made
only now, every atom of me wants that past to be made with you
but unfortunately my past is cursed. so, lets stay in the present.  
so that maybe our puzzle pieces when put together
present a picture

of us

in our own winter wonderland where the world can stop.
and we can love.
for i've discovered in all of our broken pieces.
that
I love you.

and your music was the sweetest
to my ears and to my heart

but your soul was the darkest
when people drift apart

minds spiralling down to madness
like an eternal roundabout

and maybe in the end
that's who we really are

people with minds unbound
spoken in the language of
music over black and white notes

my heart is a violin
with too many strings

play my heartstrings
let your fingers pull my emotions
rest your hand on the back of my neck
i cannot make anything beautiful on my own
but sweetheart you can make me sing so softly

hold me close
dear i'll always love you
feel my skin, polished-smooth
warm under your hands
and know i'm yours

calm my frazzled strings
soothe my worn-out pegs,
drawn tighter and tighter and tighter
straining so deeply to hold
the strings in place
let me cling to you
let me take solace and peace
for but a few moments

my heart is a violin with too many strings,
played by too many people
my strings have been drawn taught
my body has grown tired
my music has grown dull
but with your gentle hands
encompassing the surface of my heart
i can learn to trust again
i can learn to sing again
and sweetheart i can sing so sweetly
for you

i let your hand go, softly,

and

we parted our
separate ways.

the tracing in the sand
was washed away by
the foamy edges
of the gentle waves.

the driftwood
was swept out by
the misty tide
and off the shore

away from the
salty coast,
into the eternal,
pristine sea.

the violin solo was
carried by the breeze
and the tubas dove
deeper into their octave

the final breath of your name
touched my tongue,
and it was our
final goodbye.