theres a song about a cottage and rolling fields
and when im there i can only see you
we put bees in little jars and feed them sugar water
you walk with me through mud and too wet grass
and maybe its just because i have the pills you want but,
i hold it and i dont let it go

last autumn we walked through starlit streets and
i wore purple dresses and you picked me up on rooftops
winding metal stairs going down into secret passages through the earth i
i miss your eyes on my skin, my hair
those little things you told me before the walk home we’ll
be there soon

ill take you to the stream or i wont
words buried me once and they will ruin me again
tell me, do i fill that place in your bottle still? when
you reach for me under mosaics or tables
when that glass breaks and
swarms in puddles on our feet,
am i supposed to hold on?