The less I give the more I get back
Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise
I don’t have a choice but I still choose you” —“Poison & Wine,” The Civil Wars
How did you fall?
I was wearing a blue pinafore.
Which was the sky.
No: which was not the sky.
Say: I was walking alone.
What did you think when you saw the key?
I loved the key.
How small did you become?
First: thimble, little bucket: fine.
Then: swept away.
Then: good for nothing.
my teeth—too much—
my hair to brush—
my arm ached.
Why did you come back up?
I tumbled up.
I grew dull.
What will you be now?
Correct, adequate, against my will.
Do you have any advice for other girls?
it only feels worse to stay in one place, so I’m always pacing around or walking away.” —“Land Locked Blues,” Bright Eyes