Poetry Blog by Marantha Greyson (guitar)

Your fingers strummed the strings of your guitar in a lazy, sleepy pattern as my consciousness began to drift
I inched as close to you as possible, molding my bones to yours as I seamlessly carved for myself a place at your side
Space was a silly idea, a concept at that moment we would never need to consider, should never consider
You played on as we laid together, my chest rising and falling a...

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