His fingers never forget
the chords he played,
nor the tunes he hummed with it.
He remembers
the night he played them
after her walking away.
The strings vibrate fine,
the lyrics are about ex-lovers,
but the singing comes out like a moan.
He loves his guitar
and the slow notes he plucks,
his fingers sliding along its frets
as he recalls the texture
of her skin.
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