viernes, 6 de diciembre de 2013

Strings.

Strings.
(Notes of the heart)

Such a brief note I made,
so thin, so slender in the air.

My heart was not a drum,
neither a sax, nor a piano,
just a wasted violin crying,
playing one last lonely song.

Her hands will never hold me,
her touch will never come,
and for so I will be broken…
in saddest songs of tender love.

Each string will move according
to the name so carved in my tongue.
Memories will never be forgotten,
I’ll sing our songs forever more.

Mourning in the distance you will hear me,
every wound, a sound exposed to you,
and beneath my ribs, the strings of music,
you’ll find my soul and heart in grief of love.

Someday I will and you will see me,
someday I’ll maybe find new love,
but until the day comes to set me in silence…
You’ll hear my voice, the voice of broken hope.

-Strings-

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