Falling in love again

Needles pierce my tanned skin, kissed by the sun for years but only half of it.

Working my hands to the bone, but not for me, for others requires only short sleeves.

The face begins to form, the creases in his shirt, the glimmer of his eyes and shine of his teeth,

slowly the legend forms as the harmonic rhythms and hypnotic beats enter my ears as if for the first time.

Like a sacrament, I must complete this project. Not for the interest or admiration to others.

Rather, it's a tribute to those who came before, who came before them, and their connections.

These connections on my skin, not in it or under it, these are my musical genetics,

and for me, the root of it all was in this divided soul. A soul of insecurity.

His struggles, successes, happy times and sad... I could hear them, I could feel them.

Never would I be so great, and never would we be able to speak.

Still, we communicate, through notes and rests and codas, arias and harmonies,

through poetry and lyrics and interviews, he lead me back to the loves of my life

Falling in love again, with the passion and expression I had long abandoned,

for the same reason he renamed himself, the same reason he hated the man who gave him life.

The insecurities, the hate, the anger, the love and passion, sex, drugs, and travel.

Heartache, successes, highs of altitude and spirit. His knit cap draws my eyes closer, and I remember.

A Decade Later