Sitting soft in a small town bar,
listening to that one guitar.
Similar chords play again,
only wonder is just when
my heart will open wide and bloom,
yet all I have is that simple tune.
My face stares back in bathroom glass,
I let the opportunity pass.
Empty love leads to an empty heart,
we never even got to start.
I'm too young for sadness, one could say,
I understand why the pain does stay.
Deep breaths don't help, neither tears,
the simple tune resonates my fears.
2 comments:
I enjoyed how you were able to use rhyme (without the rhyme hijacking the poem) in order to tell a common story and make me care about this speaker.
I think my favourite line is "similiar chords play again" because of how well it captures the rather depressing "sameness" that is often found in the small town life. I'm not sure if the first line entirely works for me though because the phrasing of "Sitting soft" seems a tad artificial when compared to the more true-to-life language in the rest of the poem.
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