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Guitar.
May 15, 2011
He strums the guitar
And for a minute it takes me back.
I see myself lying in your bed.
I look at his fingers caressing the guitar
But I see your tanned, callus fingers.
I look at his face, but all I see is you.
The blond curls and blue eyes
Replaced with chocolate eyes and messy brown hair.
I remember your look of concentration.
His lips begin to move,
But the only sound I hear is the deep magnetic voice
That used to sing me to sleep.
I blink my eyes and the illusion’s gone.
You sing for her now,
While he sings for me.
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