The old garage with the beaten up cd player tunes are playing with a captivating voice. His voice over the speakers so ironic, his instrument stringing your heart one-by-one. The imaginary weddings and future for the kids... Next week later you meet him... His face so yet kind, his voice so yet soft Your heart stopps and you mumble your chance, thinking that it will never end.. It will.. It will...
Reason for writing:
A crush I had on a guy who played in a band
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by (penname) Mirria Grater.