“that’s the way that i’ve spent
these last few days
of writing all these songs.
i swear to god
that i love you
since i can’t explain this.”

and i can’t.
it’s something that exists
but can’t be found.
so search on, search on.

now and again,
we will-o-wisps will cross paths;
dancing, singing,
whispering secrets to hold on to
when we’re to go out
on our own again.

learn from this.
it’s all i can tell you,
my audience,
to do:
learn from this.

meet somebody
and let them go,
but never forget the joy
they gave to you.
tend to that seedling,
my dears.
shine the light of clarity
upon its fragile leaves
and let it grow.

Let it grow!
though somebody else
planted it there,
it’s yours. it’s you,
and you are beautiful.
i can’t help myself.
i can’t mar
the tender glow
of your individual,
awe-inspiring wisdom
with grit and anger.

you are beautiful
and that’s all
i can tell you.
that’s all
i can say.

see, sometimes,
there’s little else left to say,
my dear friends,
and that’s alright.

(… but you, my dear.
for you, i have so many stories
that i still can weave
for you…)

“i’m sensibly just
taken by your words.
for once, i’ve found the cure.
i’m sick of staying up late
’cause you’re not here
and i’m not there.
no, i’m not afraid
to watch you change me anymore.”

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