Strings: A Poem

Sitting there, plucking the strings,

of her guitar,

of my heart,

Singing truth with a purpose

of this hurting,

we both share,

A life’s worth of feeling wrong,

all I had known,

she had known,

From these shackles, we break free,

with each other,

on our own,

But her song is still a sad one,

I cannot change,

or not yet.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s