Guitar

You remind me of my guitar.
When I saw and heard you I knew that I wanted you.
The smoothness of the wooden sound board reminded me of your skin.
The shape and the curve of your body, gave me goose bumps from within.
Your strings and the sound it makes when it is plucked or strummed
got my attention like how a moth is attracted to flame.

When you were in my arms no moment felt lame.
The chords, the rhythm, and the songs it all sounded neat.
It felt good when your body was next to mine.
You sitting on my lap, while my arms were wrapped all around you.
My left hand grazing your neck while my right feeling your body.
The movements of my fingers were all so fluent and accurate.
My hand developed a mind of its own and it knew
where to touch you in all the right places which made you sound great.
Everything was in harmony but then came the bitter.

The longer I strummed you the older and looser you got.
Your pegs developed rust and your body and insides collected dust.
Your hard strings made my fingers ache and I developed calluses.
You didn’t sound so good and that didn’t go all too well with my mood.
I got sick of you so I took out your case, opened my cabinet and put you
in your place. I just needed time away from you.

Then I turned on the radio, alas it was all 90’s music which reminded me of you.
How’s it gonna be when you don’t know me, Sweet you rock and sweet you roll.
I only wanna be with you, I wish you were here and that you really are my wonderwall.
I realized that everybody hurts and that I want you bad.
So I decided to take you out of your heart shaped box and caress you down.

I know you all too well, so restringing you was easy.
I wiped the dust of your body which revealed scratches
that had developed over time, not because of you but because of me.
It made me realize, that everything wasn’t entirely your fault
but it had a lot to do with me too.
How I didn’t take care of you as evident from the dust and the scratches.
How I didn’t let anyone get near you because I wanted you all for myself.
I was selfish and I admit it.

New strings and no dust.
Everything was mended, everything was fixed and all was forgiven.
Except for the scratches on your body, and my callused fingers.
These things serve a purpose though. They are ugly markers
of our troubled past and how we have over come and got past them.

Out of ugly comes beauty.
Your scratches defines how you aged with grace,
like how time makes better wine.
The calluses on my fingers also made me stronger.
I no longer hurt and I can play longer and better.
Win, win for both of us.
Guitar, I know that you don’t speak,
But by your body language and the fluent movement of your strings,
I hope that you have also forgiven me.
Now we are both free of hate, let us strum away into the night.




(Music References on Verse 4)
1. How’s it gonna be – Third Eye Blind
2. (sweet you rock, and sweet you roll ) Crash into me – Dave Matthews Band
3. Only wanna be with you – Hootie and the Blowfish
4. Wish you were here – Incubus
5. Wonderwall – Oasis
6. Everybody Hurts – R.E.M.
7. I want you bad- the Offspring
8. Heart Shaped Box – Nirvana
9. Caress me down - Sublime

Finally awake, prepare for random poems.
-Conrad.