Shall I compare you to a punk rock song?
You are more ardent, more intoxicating:
Dull drums will smother where they don’t belong,
Songs end too soon in silence suffocating.
Treble voices grate too loud upon my ear
Until they hoarsely ebb on clumsy shrills.
Even vivid chords, repeated, disappear;
What’s heard too often, often fails to thrill.
But the notes of your heartbeat will not wane,
Your smile a power chord that never ages.
I won’t tire of the music of your name
As long as I can read it in my pages.
After songs end and guitar strings break,
These eternal words your memory awake.