flashbacks I play on a green guitar
the music drips
and I recall
how your face
used to scrunch
when we would almostkiss
and we never did
it’s too much
the world is all bass
and no violins
but I—
I…
funny…
I always was
never the same—
differing and offbeat
and always an airplane but never flying
flying
f l y i n g …
our silence was a movie
or an affectation
or an unclear wall
that ribbons outward
always from you-to-me
a seesaw stuck
one way,
never returning.
a seashell
that, upon your ear,
sounds only
half the sea.
fracturing
again
a heartbone or two,
but
iwillplayfasternowandforgetaboutit.
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