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Love notes sound like the truth,
the whole damn truth — like Hip Hops poetry,
painlessly piercing your skin
right through to the bone, when the DJ puts the needle on it
and the beats all call you home,
like that super bass
as your fingertips lay me down and drum along to my heart,
a choir at the bridge, a tight verse at the start,
or the loneliest tears that drop and repeat — at the ache in your voice that’s making me weak,
or my own a cappella riding solo tonight
and the symphonies in bloom — filling up in my mind
