It is when you listen to a song again and again until you can no longer decide where it starts and it ends;
Each time you notice a different layer of a familiar riff
Or how the melody dips before it crescendos.
It is a chromatic scale;
A contrary motion of minor and major
But with each rise of harmony you know you have to fall back.
It is climbing the keys
And knowing that treble clef will obstinate from always being ascending beauty.
-by holly boyd
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...
