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Oct 2014
My hand meets your soft shiny keys.
The touch sends a cold shiver down my spine.
Sixteenth notes flutter like a butterfly
Colours soar through the air
Two eight notes caress both hands
Eighth rests pause time in which we kiss.
Our souls sing a duet -
It's not me composing anymore.
We ended on a deceptive cadence,
but our love was never resolved.
Paige
Written by
Paige
348
 
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