Guitar PlayerA Poem by SleeplessVolcanoThose restless plucks resonate like earthquake tremors she plays from memory, she says but I am not so sure - there is too much brain stuck in her arteries to allow enough soul to reach the heart I can feel it each time she lets a string go even though she is smiling her melody is sad - like an overcast sunrise, wanting to sing a song, but muted But suddenly, the music starts to play when I see the light - I am her guitar and she is my player. © 2016 SleeplessVolcanoAuthor's Note
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Added on May 1, 2016Last Updated on May 1, 2016 AuthorSleeplessVolcanoAbout"In the end there doesn't have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to". Robert Brault Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~ Pablo Pica.. more..Writing
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