My mind was

No longer fighting.

My hands were free

Of paintbrushes

And were instead

Full of guitar picks.

Her slender body

Would sprawl out

Onto my dark blue bed sheets

Listening all day long

To the soft melodies

My bruised fingertips

Would create.

Her hands would sway

In a drunken matter

That almost made me laugh,

But I smiled instead

Because she would never see

The effect she had on me.