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Sep 2020
A guitar sits behind glass and unused guitar picks sigh. Dusty piano keys do everything they can to not just pop out of the piano and keel over to die right there on the tile floor. I speak in only the minor key now, love. Gloom trickles from the sky into my hands. Iā€™m standing here, in the living room, tossing it around in the empty air like a madman.
Petra
Written by
Petra  17/Genderqueer/California USA
(17/Genderqueer/California USA)   
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