Bury a phone in my coffin
loaded with
Voicemails from you
So I can listen to your voice
For those lonely times
Underground

Does the moon
Look down at us humans
And shed a tear
Because we always write about how she shines
And not her being
Or how she resides in our sky?

I really like hands
They show how much a person
Has been through
How old they are.
When you hold hands
You feel love
When you fidget your hands
You feel nervousness
When someone plays with your
Hands or fingers
It's a crush.
Soft hands
Old hands.
You make music with hands
And touch people with hands
Like how eyes are the windows
To the soul,
Hands are the connectors
To our inner self.