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They sounded like an old piano, her weary eyes,
faint hollow heartbeats moving into a song.
But in her solitude stood a man of pretty lies;
taking a cold hand, he danced the stars among.

But her stare he dismissed and pushed it up the drawer
it does feel silent, she thought, as love turns sour.
©2009 ~maning
:iconmaning:

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This could be goodbye.

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June 20
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