The parting of a crowd and music with its motion, collision of discordant notes to harmony, something eliding high and rooted deep, prelude to the limitless. Not a point of ending, nay, and the song to follow’s not been written yet.
[ … ]
Related, I’d say. My tattooing, the music therein’s bits and pieces. Phrases from songs written I’ve played, from music I’ve writ myself. Nothing culminated, nothing that begins nor ends nor forms a eh completion outside myself.
Romantic I am, and I’ll make no claims otherwise. Try to keep grounded, but there’s room for a daydream always, and hope for daydreams brought to life.
So I’ll dream on how you’d have greeted me, and how I’d greet yourself. How I’d like to greet my Talik, and someday shall.
When that contract’s a past thing, and no act, no text can turn to hazard.
Know that I’d have let my hand seek out your cheek and settle. Know I’d have met you with all the romance kept within this frame. Know I’d’ve stared at you like looking to a universe new born.
Aye, and I warrant you’ll see that look, regardless. No harm in nor helping the way a man looks when he’s stricken. Happens it’s more propitious still, this taking drinks before, this meeting you apart from any crowd’s disrupting. Means there’s one man only who’ll bear witness to the way I look at you on first sighting.
That’s yours, for my Talik alone.
Others can see my look in recurrence and renewing, but that first’s yours to have, and yours alone. Can’t say that I mislike the idea. Couldn’t say that, at all.
1/?
The parting of a crowd and music with its motion, collision of discordant notes to harmony, something eliding high and rooted deep, prelude to the limitless. Not a point of ending, nay, and the song to follow’s not been written yet.
[ … ]
Related, I’d say. My tattooing, the music therein’s bits and pieces. Phrases from songs written I’ve played, from music I’ve writ myself. Nothing culminated, nothing that begins nor ends nor forms a eh completion outside myself.
Romantic I am, and I’ll make no claims otherwise. Try to keep grounded, but there’s room for a daydream always, and hope for daydreams brought to life.
So I’ll dream on how you’d have greeted me, and how I’d greet yourself. How I’d like to greet my Talik, and someday shall.
When that contract’s a past thing, and no act, no text can turn to hazard.
Know that I’d have let my hand seek out your cheek and settle. Know I’d have met you with all the romance kept within this frame. Know I’d’ve stared at you like looking to a universe new born.
Aye, and I warrant you’ll see that look, regardless. No harm in nor helping the way a man looks when he’s stricken. Happens it’s more propitious still, this taking drinks before, this meeting you apart from any crowd’s disrupting. Means there’s one man only who’ll bear witness to the way I look at you on first sighting.
That’s yours, for my Talik alone.
Others can see my look in recurrence and renewing, but that first’s yours to have, and yours alone. Can’t say that I mislike the idea. Couldn’t say that, at all.