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Vinyl
Love is like music.
No, that's wrong.
Having a crush is like an old record.
You may have never noticed it before,
But you pluck the musty dust jacket from the bin,
The diamond in the rough
The magic happens not in the poppy, over-played records,
The blanks people expect you to fill,
But in the scratched, crackly vinyl you found in the clearance
Things are awkward at first,
You must set down the needle carefully, start cautiously to prevent damage
Then, five seconds of crackly silence
Music breaks out,
But like all good things,
Relationships end
Sometimes you don't notice it until the silence in the room suffocates you
Sometimes it ends abruptly because you handled it too roughly
But sometimes you watch the record stop spinning, and you long to play it again.
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