even when I stay inside
grey walls
and not hiding anything I look out
one of three windows
with the shades drawn and I am imagining
clouds inside;
hovering up at the ceiling like small children with secrets
I play my guitar with a love that I found a few years ago
in my old closet
in my old room
at my parents house-
made me feel new
and there is a girl in one of my classes
made by watercolors and she would
probably be a lot of fun to
lay with on those
old hardwood floors
but we barely ever use the front door anymore.
In the third stanza, the lines sound like you're playing chords. There's a melancholy rhythm here that I really like. It's weird your poems make me feel and I'm kind of speechless when I read your writing as I'm not sure how to phrase how it affected me.
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