chord,
Literary (Submission): Compositions
The sound of the song that you play
The song of your voice, the sound that I hear
where I’m the composer arranging a piece
And you are the song I’m wanting to hear
When I first played your tune
I heard your notes, and you were mine
Where I felt like Debussy
composing my Claire de lune
Trying to hear the progress I gave you, a listen
Where you play a sharp, but I needed a minor
These notes that I write, the song that you want to be
I think to myself, looking at a mirror
Next to the piano, I continue to write
I try to match chords, fifths, ninths, and sevenths
but to no avail when you kept being out of tune
I see that music is a pain and an art with patience
And you’re the art this composer is struggling to grasp
not every day comes a piece you think is the one
the piece you really wanted to make
the piece that comes out to be the best you could’ve done
But in your song I couldn’t follow
the notes I arranged weren’t the ones you wanted to hear
I try to understand music’s complexity, your beauty
and here I am waging war with a piece I’m breaking
I’m composing, thinking that I’m the composer
when it was the other way around
The piece I’m arranging and trying to understand was never you
but my feelings and yours unbound
You’re the composer
The composer I can’t keep up with
Your complex tunes and chords, I can’t comprehend
Even I myself can’t understand
The notes you play you hear to be right
The notes I play that you see wrong
The composer who’s getting composed by the piece he’s trying to make
Who am I? Not a composer, but a chord in your song
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