Guided by something heavier than a final notice or a dollar sign. It's a power, not for profit, that's respected silently, without a like button. It tangles my hair in the stars as I dream of places that feel like home, but never visited. It whispers the names of people that I know I've loved in another life. The world is on fire, but I close my eyes and hear its music. It hums. I follow. The world is on fire, but I dance in its glow.
The first time I picked up a pen was for you, They said I should write you a letter, I did you one better And sculpted my life in poem, Wrote down my pains so you'd know them. and sometimes you push "like".
The fact I can get it right away The fact I can get it right away with the new version is better The fact I can get it right away with the new version is better to be the first half of the year The fact I can get it right away with the new version is better to be the first half of the year and I don't have a great way of the year
My grandmother gifted me a jar of buttons when I was little. There were so many inside the jar that it was impossible she collected them by accident; impossible that she had collected them for the purpose of sewing old clothing back together. Her button jar serves as a reminder to me, a reminder of how perfect she was that she never needed them to mend old shirts she had torn, because she was too perfect to have torn any in the first place. I wonder if she gave them to me on purpose, or on accident. If she had given them to me as a keepsake of her, to show all she had collected, Or as a precaution, because she knew I was going to need to mend so much of my future.