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Spaghetti knots


There is a trumpet

that I used to know how to play.

I would get up

and pick it up

and it would sing notes that were up too.


I was younger then,

most certainly younger than I was now,

Or at least young enough to

fiddle around until I tired

or it did

or I did

or both

would cough a wrong note or melody.



it would say;


I’d answer

and I would look into it and wonder if it was sick

or maybe if I was and had just heard it wrong.


Now I’m older

and I hear just fine,

though there isn’t much to hear anymore.

I barely notice my own breathing most days.

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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