acoustic

my blues comes

in wisps and

heavy tendrils -

a crackling voice

stirs the breath

of the guitar -

it follows where

the fingers go

and the strings

sing for numbing -

absorb me into

the sound of

how pain plucks

sinister melodies -

i will

call them beautiful

every time -

 

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© 2018 by D. Inez "Z" Bell