18 November 2012
Physical, mental, emotional, in red, Swapping scars over two cups of coffee, nothing said, Glancing up through clouds of mist, our conversation, cut, There's only eyes to keep it out and only songs to keep it shut.
Look down, look up, back down, backtrack, On loop, rewinding, fret attack, From red to white to polished oak, A cycle, of the one they joke.
A wish to go up and say more, But something keeps the words in store, From red to white to polished oak, A leather collar, hunter's cloak.
A story, filling in the pieces, Closer to the wrist, decreases, As they play their way along, They dig in deeper, right to wrong.
Swapping Scars • Opuss № I