a morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
“so that’s how I learned the lesson that everyone’s alone and your eyes must do some raining
if you’re ever gonna grow.
when crying don’t help, you can’t compose yourself, it’s best to compose a poem…an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope.
that’s why I’m singing baby, don’t worry because now I’ve got your back and every time you feel like crying I’m gonna try to make you laugh
and if I can’t, if it just hurts too bad then we’ll wait for it to pass and I will keep you company through those days so long and black…
we’ll keep working on the problem that we know we’ll never solve
of love’s uneven remainders; our lives are fractions of a whole, but if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall then I think
we’d see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.”
— "bowl of oranges," bright eyes
1 June 2012
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