Watching her hands, I think
if I have only one regret
(I don’t think I could handle more)
let it be that I didn’t learn how
to make magic, make music
pour from me through ivory keys and my own hands
(which would fit far less perfectly than hers upon the piano)
Because if I had, I could let the world hear
the sounds of my tears while my eyes remained mercifully dry
(I’m oh so tired of crying)
and my forever inadequate pen untouched upon the table
I could give form to the many loves so deep
(I want to know so badly if they feel it too)
I cannot express with my simple words
I think, please, just give me the medium I could never master
and I’ll never write a single word more
(because each one would be oh so obsolete)
working title and i'm unsure about the order of the lines so comments/suggestions?
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