Im from our piano
Scraps of tape stuck to the keys
Where you wrote their names
So you could teach me my first song
Im from the sheet music in the bench
Which neither of us could read
And your sketched scattered with them
Like its your arts hiding place
Im from the old, worn string
Out of tune from the years of our playing
And our parents wouldnt pay
To get them fixed
But most of all
Im from you
And my memories
Of our piano.















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