‘You are in our thoughts’ we say,
but mother has a lot to think about these days
and every other person who misses you is busy now.
Our nights are filled with passion
and touched with guilt because
the flowers on your grave are wilted now,
arms are quilted now around our bodies instead of
outstretched, ahead of us.
There is no comfort in loving the dead.
I wish there were.
In secret, I’m still waiting for your return.
The blackness does not radiate without a flame
and your name used to be enough to spark a glow.
I don’t know anyone else who can do that.
I’m spilling fire from my mouth
more often than I’m spitting stars
though you taught me to do both.
I hope you consider that a compliment
because it sure as hell was supposed to be.
Remind me not to repeat that profanity,
as you always used to.
how sweet life can be.
In fury, in pain,
I miss how you used to remind me.
For summer fun. It was originally just for when I want to bike around, but I think it will be my vehicle playlist too. This is what I have so far!
Decatur, Or, Round of Applause For Your Stepmother!— Sufjan Stevens
The Season—The Dodos
Nickee Coco and the Invisible Tree- Of Montreal
Red— Lost in the Trees
Joy! Joy! Joy!—Sufjan Stevens
Young Pilgrims—The Shins
Everybody Talks—Neon Trees
Still Into You—Paramore
Phantom Limb—The Shins
I Got You, Babe—Sonny and Cher
I need not linger to a God— a man of a broken universe.
We bring a dark father
who uses fire to warm women,
and salt to drink them.
I see girls’ breath no more than
love with ghosts.
Our words are haunted naked.