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Winter.

Thick soft hands are
tan and moving, shifting quickly, fret to fret.
His bedroom is a light green-gray,

not unlike the grass-stained concrete
sidewalk squares which live outside.

And I am asking,
Please play for me,

And I am answered,
No.

Please tell me what you think

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Comments


  • philosphyofkate
    January 25

    Edit | Reply
    Not at all how I expected it to end! I love how the beginning is so smooth and visual, and the end so abrupt. Excellent.