Musician

There’s always a musician,
Always blue eyes
Watching me (in the dark, resonant).
There’s always the tension,
Like a gravitational force
Pulling me into you (like you’re the center and I’m
hopelessly out of orbit, colliding with the sun)
The chemistry of it volatile and
Beautiful (a terrible gorgeousness—the perfect storm)
Undoing all my perfectly created facades
Until it hurts,
It hurts to not touch you,
To want you.
Until the weight of you, so close
Leaves me breathless, struggling for air
In your unbelievably charismatic atmosphere.
It’s the curse of your guitar,
You pluck the strings and the chords
Resonate, (like your eyes in my soul) feel right.
You play my heart, and the music
You create within
Makes me feel alive, all right (for a while).
With all your power chords,
All your alt rock dissonance, picking at the strings
Your sway over me
Intensifies, your essence runs like watercolors,
Staining the pages, deepening
Like a kiss, as the honey of all your truths
And lies drip down my throat (off your tongue).