My intimate song

The things I hear.

While you listen to “Dangerous Hands,” I seek solace in the strings,
Where a violin mourns and the piano softly sings.
You find passion in the blaze, reckless and untamed,
But I crave the touch of shadows, a love unnamed.

Your songs burn with fire, mine smolder in the dark,
Each note a soft caress, leaving a fragile mark.
While your rhythm consumes with wild, fleeting pride,
Mine lingers like a storm, slow waves that never subside.

The cello hums its ache; the piano sighs relief,
Solace found in melodies that whisper their grief.
And though the world sways to shallow, fleeting songs,
I crave the depths where every note truly belongs.

Let the night hold its breath as the symphony aches,
In its velvet embrace, every shattered heart quakes.
For love, like music, is tender, raw, and slow,
A solace of shadows where only the brave dare go.

Reviews

[Dave W.]

I liked this, the imagery was great, I love the depth of feeling, that music can bring a person.