music from your fingertips
kiss your fingers as press on the white and black keys
like you're playing to the sound of your own heart beat
straighten up your shoulders, drag the bow again the strings
symphonies like every thought that won't stop echoing, echoing
press your palm to throat to feel the chords shiver with sound
shaking like your hands when the worlds get a little too loud
bite your nails so you may strum down on the strings
melodious and proud like blood chasing through your veins
cracking your knuckles to every beat of the drum
a twist of sound in the air when your hair falls from a bun
breathing in and out with scattered black notes
paper airplanes drawn with staff lines and hopes
you're making music from your fingertips
and melodies from withered lips
i hear your song and i'll play you mine
so listen for a chorus of just my design,
because i promise you,
we've got the time.