I open myself up and
all that’s inside is a song
you’d imagine your
guardian angel to sing
on-key. out of these
minor chords and dissonance--
I sound wrong. I have not been
tuned properly.
I am too old to be sneaking
out of my own house, but I
do it anyways.
the stairs creak below these toes.
no one emerges from dark bedrooms
to stop me.
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