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Sometimes I think of yesterday.

The sunsets that passed,

The ones I cannot recall.

The ones I can…

 

Purples and pinks,

And bass beats,

That thump through,

My core.

 

I don’t want to!

Talk About It!

 

CD’s spinning, lines disappearing,

While you break my heart…

Rod Stewart sings the fireplace warm…

But I am a million miles away,

 

A girl trapped in a womans’ body.

Alone.

 

Alone.

 

A broken heart,

Staying just a little bit longer,

A bleeding body,

Staggering away.

Comments (2)

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Wicked, I particularly like this poem because it captures things I have felt and still feel on a regular basis...especially "bass beats that thump through my core." Drummer here...never lose the beat, unless it is Mozart making the noise, then...

Wicked, I particularly like this poem because it captures things I have felt and still feel on a regular basis...especially "bass beats that thump through my core." Drummer here...never lose the beat, unless it is Mozart making the noise, then I'm chill!

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Wedge
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Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it Music is essential. Cello for myself But it has been a long time since I played... somewhere in one of those pink sunsets...

wickedwahine_69
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