There Was Music

A very loose study of music metaphors.

There was music. Something distant and broken. The Southern air swayed in and out of the J-45. I could feel the breeze through the pines. A simple melody of the here and now. She was dancing as I watched. Slow and melodically, she was mine in that moment.

Felt like I was pawning minutes for miles to keep myself here. I should put distance between my eyes and the way light attaches to her silhouette, but I can't. I'll be lucky to get fifty percent of myself back by morning.

She opened her mouth and the rest of my life unfolded before me. Flashing the future like the past comes at you on your deathbed. How do I ever evaluate sound again when she broke the barrier between music and beauty, merging it into an impossible bar for others to surpass.

There were guitar strums that hit my soul. Something like my past and my collision. It was a car crash moment of me and you. Stuck with Chanel and weed and me and you. You tucked your head and said a phrase, something I wish I'd understood. Like whiskey and weed and you and me. I took a step back to the phrase to the mid between metaphors and here and I could see you just beyond the mess. Somewhere closer to the hair of the dog.

Like the first day of school, I had no choice and was just there. My heart followed the corner of her mouth as she smirked. My intention wrapped with it beyond the right thing into a shadow I can only paint in my dreams while the demons sleeping in her shadow turned to sunrise.

And what is sunrise without her beside me? The darkest of days in the coldest of ways. I will let the demon's creep; I can fight them in my sleep. What I need is the warmth of her eyes when they open. Her eyes are the future of sound. Weeping, the world floods, shining, the flowers blossom.

It was Calla lily dreams and your words. Something soulful and gone. She called me out and I called her down. Like a firefly dying on my hand, bittersweet endings and dying lights.

So, I will follow the beams until I understand the glitter on her cheeks. She's smiling again and I'm hesitant between the realms. This won't end well. She is like jumping into the void, terrifying and worth it. But there's a freckle on her cheek that looks like tomorrow.

And I understand that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Which is why my spontaneity will never recede. Do us, right now, as hard as we can. If we are meant to live, there is always narcan. We are the whole future in a line of right now.

Rebirth is something different, something like you should embrace. Death did his dance around me and found it wasn't his space. Cleansed from the despair, cleansed from repair. I settled in where I stood with an unearthly stare.

She looked back unaware of the fate she found. She's broken and smokin' and lost in time. I'm tracing her memory like ghosts in mine. This girl is sex at the cost of time.

But does time have a cost if admittance is free? How do you move forward when you are chained to the past? How do you remember if your only reference point is now?

How can your presence be calculated when your mind is trapped between the past and the future. Maybe this girl is just sex at the cost of mind.

She's daydream and nightmare and I'm probably blind. I'll lose all and be all to give her my time. I'm lost in brain; she consumes most of mine.