Girl behind the guitar.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl who made me go weak in the knees simply from a guitar ballad.

Submitted: April 01, 2008

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Submitted: April 01, 2008



 She's staring at the strings
with her fingers and precisely placed organs
that makes my tongue melt her music
when orally translated through taste buds.

She could sing a four-course meal
simply by stroking her guitar.

As she's far too deep inside her own muse
to notice I'm writing lyrics
to her electrical, loose fuse;
she sends me shaking up, solely from
the illumination of her burning insight
to those dim things we tend to take for granted –
like truth.

And it's those hidden parts;
my knots of thoughts that fail
to rest easy in her short circuit strokes,
like fine written footnotes making up her beauty marks.

When I start to hesitate in harmony,
she offers me a refrain of chain reactions.
But it's her sentimental pheromones
that has my backbone stretched out
and hollowed to the curve of her delicately pitched tone;
she's got me swallowing the catastrophe
she sheds onto me in her final crescendo.

Though her eyes never follow through
like her cigarette smoke to the open window,
she persists in music as with life through existence.

And I spend my days in between my own teeth,
trying to sing her worded seeds into blooming clarity.


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