My guitar

My guitar will sit in a different room

Against a different wall

One that didn’t see me grow up.

–

Play the songs I sang at 17

In a room 100 miles away from home

The home that holds my heart in her palms

And I’ll pretend

That it doesn’t bother me that much.

–

–

–

–

–

Nothing will ever be the same and I mourn every version of myself that I have loved and lost. I am myself and I always will be but I guess I miss every part of me.

Hug me longer.

Leave a Reply

Create your own website, free on WordPress.com.Create your own website.
Start free