Fingers to Palms

From fingers to palms.

Fire flows through my veins as a poisonous venom.
Working its way to my unconscious heart.
Sleeping from the months of its of poor functions,
Tired of hearing untuned pianos and broken strings,
It now begins listen to the old, familiar tune.
Love.

A year of sorrow ends, and my heart cracks once more.
A smile scratches its surface as that tune plays out.
That tune that was once forgotten,
That same tune that was hidden in a pile of old broken records,
like the child that hid its terrible years of poverty and loss.

Hope then sparks a flame that burns in my heart.
If only time could stop, I would sweep you away.
I'd take you to our favorite place, and together we'd stay,
and our hearts could listen to that old, familiar tune.
Love.