I, I don't know
I suppose
I suppose I do it for the pale blue dragonflies.
Translucent wings that shimmer in the light of a setting sun over a quiet river of gun metal grey.
The bats. They flutter about like scraps of a night you wish you could revisit.
I do it for the girl sitting alone at the end of the bar.
Freshly painted fingers spinning a beer while her eyes dance between her phone and the window.
For the ones that feel so alone they wouldn't recognize the sound of their own voice.
I write.