Just another teenage love poem

Let's set the mood.

let the wild insane guitar riffs began.

When I was young I used to think that love was meant for everyone
But those days are gone.
Wow, that is a cliched as you can get. It is isn't just moody but when
you want to write about love and failure to love, you have to give as
good as it can get.
Poems like songs about love and sadness, Hope and madness
truth or dare, find a bottle to spin it, kissing in a closet then hug
pretend to confess.
Our love, that sweet emotion that messes with the mind and
confounds the soul. Is this all we can show that enough spilled
ink that is now being replaced by desperate text messages
scrawling misspelled conjectures of passion unfulfilled.
When I was younger than all of this, I found as if by chance my very
first kiss. it was too much like a fairy tale, much has changed
in life and relationships. I remained true to my beliefs that
hope and promises would not fade not break that her words
would prevail.
Even with all the phrases being restated and recreated.
Even with every movie being remade and desecrated.
Even if you have heard it a hundred times or written it into
a thousand rhymes.
Even if you I say I love you, he say I love you or she says I love you.
It doesn't stop it from being, at the end of all things, tried and true.
It doesn't stop us from saying it again as one thing about Love is
that it is forever fresh and eternally new.

So is the pain and the tears and the days of  sleepless despair
over the loss and heartbreak that follows poems around like
a storm clouds in the melancholic air.

This poem is all about you...except that it isn't

This is my life, this is the story of my life, this is really only about one particular way I used to look at my life.
This is a poem about you, Sherry, except that it really isn't.
You know the first time you tapped me on the shoulder to ask me if I played D&D and what that was like and my heart sang because the most beautiful girl in the world had just talked to me and I tried in vain of something witty to say and all I came up with was a clumsy shy yes, "yes I do?"
No you don't. 
For one thing it took a boob and nose job, dieting, working out like a crazed person before you started talking about being as beautiful as I had always believed you to be.
For another thing, you were so smart except when you weren't and that was probably because they good looking boys only paid attention to you when you were whacky and acted like a dumb blonde.
It always confused me to no end why you would stop being the girl I was so in love with and put on this other girl like squeezing into a pair of too tight blue jeans. Always ready to be the butt of a joke, always bursting at the seams.
This poem is more than what it seems, it is also how you stomped all over my dreams.
At best this is a rant about how one sided the biggest and often most important thing to happen in my life was. It is also the sad understanding that how overrated my credit was where your failing were concerned. The truth be told, you probably never even knew that I sang every love song with your name interjected in place of Jenny, Kelsey, Melany, and yes Sherry. 
This poem is all about you- except that it isn't. 
It's about me.
it's about me throwing away the most precious emotion I had to offer any other person in hopes that you would stop one day and like the storm clouds clearing up in the sky, drop the milk in the middle of the kitchen and say to no one in particular. "Of course, now I see!"
It not about you, save that you broke my heart more times than I can count and turned me out into the night to face my utter failure to grow beyond you and find someone more deserving, someone actually worth all the tears and suicidal tendencies.
It's not your fault, no one deserves such sweet empathy.
It's not your doing, if you want to look at it that way, it's my problem really.
This poem is all about you...except it is really about the lack of you and me.
There is no way I can hope to make you pay
just like there was never more than the few moments we played D&D. 
This is a poem about a very near thing to tragedy-
but thankfully this is a poem that is not really about you.
It is a poem about realizing there was more to life than one unhealthy love, that there is more than all this to be.

Trio

Her heartstrings thrum as her bow bends the music to the crescendo.
The shrill feelings flow with moments of joyous pain, filling the room sweet
sad refrain.

The violin sings its melancholic lullaby until time stands almost still while the world slides
on by

His breath roars into and out of the cold brass pipes

an echo of an echo,

as if arrogance could be removed in a swipe 

 Replacing the metallic presence sounding deep down inside this horn.
The staffs and clefs reverb their disdain and their scorn.
No trumpet can ever hope to replace,

 The solid winds that the hornblower summons to fill this space

 The piano with its multitude of ebon & ivory keys stands between the two egos like a storm over ships
on the tossing seas.

Hear it rumble the bass,

Hear it roll over the chords

It surrounds the players

in its virtuoso, it knows its own reward.

The best of its companions, it is simply grand

perfectly playing

 second or third chair in the band.

Each of these pieces are as brilliant

in performance of their own part

The trio is it's own symphony

the triumph of the Art.

SCAT - This is one way I feel

Scat
This is one way I would express what I feel
in a completely Ski bi di bi do bap bap doo
way. It's like making noises when there is just nothin'
left to re re be ba do ba do to say.
When I cannot say I love you, I just go all wa wah 
I dada dah lah de dah rah until the words fall
free from my lips

This is the way I sing to you, as my minds races
around allalala reppidy do ve doo as I watch you
move in time and my heart does back flips
Shimming around in that dress that rides along
with my imagination to the swing of of your ooh 
lah lah hips.

This is all I can manage to getta gotta getta go
run and my tongue thins thick between my teeth
as I try again to shebe do dah alla mo da sing
the way that the masters sang until the music 
comes along and I hear you memory slides
between the notes that my scat is trying to play

skip bip bip blip as my heart rattles out in time
to my voice. Ski bi bi bing I skip across the stage
in defiance of gravity, in defiance of my age
I will ski daddle with the best of them as you
move in time to the ski da da bah bah bada bull
lull of this the music of my mouth.

It's always like this when I see you in my dreams
in my arms, like a vi da voom kind of ski bi bi de
run across the room until the music takes away 
all that is real as it see see seems. This much is my song
this much is true. If I can do then so can you.

Dedicated to the Scatman and Sinatra.