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guitar slayer

he puts his hand around her neck
and then begins to fret her
quietly at first she softly moans
and cries to some crescendo

he grips her tighter sliding
his fingers to her chords
she wails man she wails
filling the air as she soars

we've come to a crossroads
he sings, the deals made now
you're a plucking wooden woman
with your warm curve in my lap

but I'd make a deal
with the darkness itself
to hold you in my hands
to the end of our blue songs

© agoodguy2have 2010-02-22
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2010

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Comments (7)

purpledragonfly
Mmmm. Like it!!!peace banana
hedistuff
Terrific analogy. Thank you.
Pinkpoetress
Very nice poem. I enjoyed.
Blues63
Love it, then again, I would rolling on the floor laughing
boyshchrm6
The upside is you control
what she says...lolapplause thumbs up rolling on the floor laughing
QuietStormF
Very nice.. clever work...thanks bowing teddybear
himynameischase
That poem rocks, that poem rolls, that poem frees my soul! Weeeooo!
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on Feb 2010
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