The Acoustic Guitar
Devon Vinales
Your silk fingers pluck each string,
like I can pluck the memories of you.
The vibrations from each pluck
creates a tangerine melody
that twirls around the room,
and lingers in my mind.
You twist the silver knobs,
like you tune my lips
upwards.
When I feel your textured laugh,
I instantly receive all that I’ve ever desired,
and nothing can replace that warmth.
You securely hold the well-kept body under your arm,
like you clutch the weight of my emotions.
Your fingers running through my hair,
as you embrace my tears,
and whisper sweetly that
everything will be ok.
You put the delicate instrument
back on its stand,
and I still wait patiently
for you to play it
once more.
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