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the truth about me (never forget)
always lost in the words, sometimes
it’s hard to tread back
(just break free)
through the spaces and commas
into the real world again.
she likes the solitude of the winter
nights, spent by the window
(she just likes to listen)
in the water,
she is beautiful.
(water clear and blue,
like memory)
she is wilderness contained
within concrete walls.
her fingers trip over the
music;
(don’t ask for rhythm)
but put a pencil in place of a piano
and you can hear the melody.
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