friday afternoon, while it rained like music on my skylight, i thought it'd be sweet to swing by, as a surprise, early in the evening, drop a kiss, a champagne rose, a whimsical memento, a book you'd love, a heartfelt handwritten note on the back of a constellation map, with your pleiades highlighted.
i could talk about the stars & signs, but i'd rather bring you a bottle of your favorite wine, & go slow with it. i love that you have a favorite. i love that there's another soul who loves dry floral whites, who loves some of the lit that i love, who loves in the same strange fluctuating & true way that i love.
today, i am feeling femme & dreamy because safety does that for me. i love your eyes, the way you gaze, your companions, the way you're not so far away when i need you close. i love sprawling out in my bed, feeling the way i feel about you, knowing i could spend my entire life feeling this way.
except, no.
hey ya, is a song. i could be blissed out, or i can sit up from this cute excursion. not that love is bad; it's like a bag of kit kats in my latest favorite flavor. it rains, and i love the rain in my hair. i love the walks without my umbrella, as long as my socks stay dry. i love wandering in the fog. i love dancing in my soul as i move through the city which holds me up so wonderfully.
i've got a guitar, a pen, a stage, a stool. i've got my voice, which i prefer in the quieter decibels, because it carries true. i prefer my hair, tucked behind my ear, and falling constantly in my face. i prefer my framed lenses than my natural blur scape of the world, my blindness.
through the dark focus of a pinhole, everything is beautifully sharp & clear, and this love for the world is alive in me.
i started with a love letter to you, but it's not about you.