The substance of a song
When taken apart, ingredient by ingredient
and separated by analysis
or left within the composer's mind
The notes, the progressions: insignificant
The rhythms, the rhymes: insufficient
The meter: meaningless
The dynamics: dry
All incomplete and uninspired, without the other parts
The pigments of a painting
When taken apart, ingredient by ingredient
and separated by scrutiny
or left upon the artists' palette
The patterns, the acrylics: lifeless
The roses, the reds: lackluster
The gold leaf: garish
The watercolor: wretched
All incomplete and uninspired, until combined into a work of art
The heart of a human
When taken apart, ingredient by ingredient
and separated from society
or left utterly alone
The sighs, the yearnings: tragic
The gasps, the emotions: terrifying
The resolutions, repugnant
The promises, pathetic
All impossible to navigate, without a guide
Me
When taken apart, ingredient by ingredient
and separated from sentiment
or left outside the radiance of your love
The sarcasm, humor: laughable
The physical, the metaphysical: unattractive
My laugh, mirthless
My song, stale
All unexceptional, all worthless, all incomplete, without you
In your eyes, I am perfection
In mine, I am not perfect, complete... without your perfection.
Separate, we are human, commonplace.
Together, we are a masterpiece.
