we've all got broken
strings but we try our best not to think about those kinds
i find myself thinking about how damn dark and swampy your
eyes get in november and june. i find myself thinking about how
the hottest starts are always white and blue.
i wonder about love sometimes and the bodies
i've seen it come in. how when we hit the light
we never stay for long. maybe our bodies weren't built for
but i'll never be sorry for all the feelings that i
bear in all the places they cannot fit. sometimes when i listen
carefully i think i hear you singing. maybe it's just the
sound of the wind hitting our broken strings.
but this world is a very lonely place if you never learn
how to love broken