with the exception of strings
you are my guitar
visualize this with me
all curves
rise to rush upward to the first dip
like a wooden skin rollercoaster
an E ticket ride
rise and fall of your sweet soundrushing up to meet me
this is mine
rising up in crescendo, sings to me
amplifies in surging waves
as it hurricanes in fullness to a crescendo, or two
and corresponds to applied magic of the musician
and when reaching this beautiful crown
insatiable it begs to begin again in a new octave
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