I stare at them all - at this black keyboard with white print - and I cant find one single combination of letters and words that could convey how much I love you.
There are 6 strings on a classic acoustic guitar. 21 frets. Unless my math is wrong, that's 126 different notes. Push or pull any one of the strings and tuning knobs in any direction and you begin multiplying that number exponentially by 126 again. The variations and options multiply again when you consider the different amounts of pressure you apply when holding down the string or strings when you play it.
I stare at it - my telecoustic guitar - and I cant find one possible combination of notes and melody that could convey how much I love you.
I have 8,635 songs on my computer. 74 songs by me in my ProAudio program. I have 3,709 pictures. Countless trinkets, charms and mementos clutter my room or are safely tucked under my bed. 404 pages spanning 4 journals full of thoughts, poems and lyrics. I have 6 jackets. 9 sweaters. over 30 shirts. 5 jerseys. 3 stuffed animals, including the one you gave me. I own infinite thoughts in my head ranging from worries and doubts to hopes and love. I have one mirror in my room. its the size of a small, B-side vinyl record.
I stare at it - myself and everything around this room - and I can't find one worthy combination of sentiment and heart that I could offer that could convey how much I love you.
Sometimes life is a 50,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.
And all fuckin' sky.