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Curls
September chill beneath
this crystal ball sky.
You're playing your guitar
and cursing this weather.
You don't notice these tears.
This heart of mine is breaking with every strum,
but I don't have the want to make you stop.
So sing to me, my wilted love.
Bring me to my knees.
My curse is that I fall too hard.
Your curse, you could not see.
