there are the days
when I howl
at my guitar.
Until my fingers bleed.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Photograph stolen from Schneefloeckchen
Posted by Romantic Dominant on January 14, 2013 in Still Life
Tags: love, poetry, relationships, these dark desires, Until my fingers bleed, writing
January 14, 2013 at 11:18 pm
but through the pain we are reminded of the finite vitality of living. x
January 14, 2013 at 11:21 pm
Why dost thy heart bleed love?
Cuts like a stab.
January 16, 2013 at 8:20 am
Praise. Thank you
January 15, 2013 at 12:07 am
reblogged to House of Heart…just had to.
January 15, 2013 at 11:13 pm
Honoured. Such a brief few words of pain to re-blog, but I appreciate it.
January 15, 2013 at 12:24 am
January 16, 2013 at 8:21 am
January 15, 2013 at 12:36 am
LOVE this. you so rarely give us such a poignant punch.
Ah Evelyn The short ones are usually sad ones.
January 15, 2013 at 1:15 pm
sometimes we must bleed to wake up and feel again
January 16, 2013 at 8:25 am
Yes. Perhaps you are right.
January 16, 2013 at 4:53 am
I’ve done exactly that before, more times than I care to count. You expressed that act and the emotion tied to it succinctly and with eloquence. Blessed are the instruments tat are there for us on the days we bleed… and on the days we don’t.
January 16, 2013 at 8:27 am
It is cathartic. We survive. Thanks for commenting.
January 16, 2013 at 11:32 am
I’m sure you don’t play *that* badly ; )
January 16, 2013 at 3:56 pm
Others howl at the sound also.
January 16, 2013 at 9:39 pm
Beautiful… So you do play guitar. *Smiles*
January 16, 2013 at 9:40 pm
Thank you. Not as well as I write. And I write untidily.
January 16, 2013 at 9:46 pm
*laughs* I’m sure you play just as beautiful as you write.
January 16, 2013 at 9:47 pm
Truthfully I do not. But I am glad to give the illusion
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