Don’t put that brush down, darling. It’s beautiful. It’s odd. It’s irregular, just like you and the pigment of your skin, the warts on your arms like little gems you wanted to pick and pull away but an Artist put
Be grateful for those quiet loves that didn’t ask for attention or be loved in return but rather just kept shining on you like a benign sun or a radiant moon content to watch you with an unsent love song
I listened to the sound of a marching band playing under the rain where an unnamed storm blew its horn and the gray clouds clashed its cymbals in a cadence so ferocious the sky welled with pride while every human
A button fell from my coat, unmade and spring air whooshed afront my face abashed about a button gone small things can’t be replaced with none A man looked at the moonless sky there’s a hole in the corner and
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