The Lonely Guitar
My friend’s lying in bed with six strings attached
Yearning for a bond with my calloused fingers,
Gazing at my hands so dull and detached,
Glued to the ceiling while his butt lingers.
Days passed by and his fretted bridge was snatched,
Snatched by some hands of some sick soulless singer.
Copyright © Mark Anthony Bartolo | Year Posted 2020
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