Hearts and Guitar Fingers Hurt

Fingers glide, (well not so much glide as clumsily crash)
Against hard nylon strings
Surrounding myself with my own music
Maybe its not a work of art, not the kind the world craves and glorifies
But my own none the less

Once upon a mistletoe hedge you used to be my own as well.

Maybe someday sometime
You will crack open your eyes and
through the slit see that I would have given you everything

Its just that the everything I had to give you was
Not the kind of everything you wanted

Thumb resting on the call button
I know that it will not make any further depression
Because I cannot beat the fear of the uncomfort,
That you wont be able to talk to me
As before
Which ultimately led to the premature finish line

And I miss you
And though you wont be mine,
I will just try content myself with these vibrating nylon string
And I will make my own
Which cannot be taken away