Sunday, August 31, 2008


Guitar on lap and a mug of coffee an arm length away
A roomful of silence,
save for the white noise of the oscillating fan above.
No pen, no paper, no lyrics.
Just thoughts.
You in black and white
Seated and listening
Not to my voice, but to my strings
At least I thought you were
We never spoke much after that
I could only ask what your name meant
I was intrigued by it
There was an aura of enigma surrounding you
I had to know you are
I took the chance
And you obliged
Out of sympathy or surprise
Only you hold that knowledge
Not that it matters
Because I don't feel like I'm on par
You're high up on hierarchy of awesomeness
While I'm wedged in the lower rungs of the pariah
But when you let me in on your miseries
And into the chapters of your life others would never read
Things changed
I realised I had a shot at this
Nonetheless, the lingering feeling of failure remains
So in between sips of caffeine
And thoughts about you in your black and whites
A song bearing your name was born
No lyrics
Only an instrumental
But it doesn't matter
You wouldn't be able to listen to it
Comments: Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]