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Poem Number 1128
Playing my guitar
Every sound I wonder why
Something feels missing
Every movement I look back
At the memories.
Brass strings, a cold touch
Hot rockin' I miss too much
To stroke again your hair
And wither in your stare
I had a party last night I can't remember if you were there
Yes, me and Sandra - with her on the stair
I am so stupid so I played my guitar
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