3:31 a.m. - 2002-01-08
Lullaby
There�s this voice resonating in my eardrums; someone singing to me. And I wonder about this melody, and where it originated. Was it in your fingertips? Or words that formed in your mind, with a melody to follow?
This is why I don�t date musicians. They are too accessible, too easy to load up in the CD player for an instant emotion fix. If you want reciprocation, all you need to do is press play. The way things have been going these days, I have been hitting repeat.
In real life though, there is no pause or rewind. No stop/start, no random shuffle.
I want no complications. I want no morning after silence or empty excuses. I just want hushed conversations, wet lips, foggy windows, laughter. Fingertips strumming, saxophones wailing. Maybe a harmony or two, a little off key.
I can�t find my voice on a stage anymore; it has been like that for years. But that doesn�t mean I don�t remember how to sing. These are my melodies, just words on a page. The hook, the chorus, the rhythm. And this too shall pass.
It is, however, enough to lull me to sleep tonight. Sometimes that is all I need. A comfort of my own imagining, a setlist of my own design, filling the space of my empty bedroom. Soft, insistent; inducing the most pleasant dreams.
