The Blues

an experience

With the heart wrenching whine of the bluesy guitar,
my heart weeps for what will never be.
The tearful notes echo my heartbreak,
wishing you could hear it cry for me.
The tickled ivories moan the woes of my sorrow.
The articulate keys sing the words I cannot say.
Throbbing strongly to the beat of my pain,
the blues drip profusely with the love
that my heart freely gave.
But here I sit in the self-pity filled aftermath
of my hearts’ broken dreams.
Trying to find redemption in a cigarette and a drink.
While listening to the blues cry the woeful tears
that my eyes can’t seem to bring.

Word count: 110
Line count: 13