I close my eyes and listen
I listen for the colors
And my hair feels soft
I strain to hear the voiceless shapes
I take notes
And listen for what brish to use
Not too wide
Too narrow
Too long or short
I listen
Perhaps I should not strain so hard
I long to seperate the voices
To hear them
One by one
Writings on the wall
And all
I am not listening anymore
Not right now
Try again my friend
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