I am always reading even if you don’t see a book in my hand. I scan the spine of the titles on the rack. I tried to remember if I’ve seen them before. Look, here’s a book I gave you last autumn cause the character swallowed his heart just like you did. I see this person I knew a couple of years back. I see the way he tenses when my name comes up. I also see grass in my garden has gone rogue. My flowers are angry at my indifference. I read the way the river calls out my name. I read the crumbled letter I tried to throw away just to pick it back up and hide it. I hide it from me. Yeah, you might call me a reader.
My thoughts have been chasing shadows of existence lately/I find myself breathless when I feel alive. There is a knot in my throat that never untangles/I dance bare feet in the sky/death is a distant memory from a distant time/life doesn’t recognize me much but it treats me well/there’s an eternity that I spend in the name of love/an eternity I will live over/
I dance bare feet in the sky?
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