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Everything was a clustermess and everyone left but her.
It was cookie dough burned in the oven,
The kitchen covered in powdered sugar,
And the air too thick to breathe right..
It was all movie reviews and venom. A pair of apples
And a glass of milk to wash it down.

But when only we were left,
She played. And timidly I with her.
We sang.
About holding this mess together.
And when she busted up,
Everything to the wall, notes to the ceiling fan,
She key-changed into a place I couldn’t reach;
I checked out, contributing silence. But my ears beat raw
While she never never stopped and her melodies missed me.
So I cried to be changed from the inside out.

At my own voice, I was free from this suffocation
And breathing in again.