The midnight blue Gretsch
Held in delicate but calloused fingers
Mirrors your hourglass shape
But in a grotesque Picasso-esque
Exaggeration of the hips
Hips that could never slide
In or out of the Skinny Jeans
Suffocating your legs
Soaking up spot lights’ heat
Which is washed away by the cool
Summer breeze that plays with your hair
The way you play the strings
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