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Words. Bright Eyes. Miles Davis. Hearts of Space. Audrey Hepburn. Hand picked Dave vinyl. Taking photos. Clothes. Lady GaGa. Playing pretend. Rockin' The Casbah. Decorating. Change. Ideas. Procrastination. Yoga pants. Nail polish. Glitter. Eating waffles. Sam Adams. Snoopy.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Does he kiss your eyelids in the morning when you start to raise your head?
And does he sing to you incessantly from the space between your bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at school with his feet inside your shoes?
Looking down every few steps to pretend he walks with you.
Oh, does he know that place below your neck that is your favorite to be touched
and does he cry through broken sentences like I love you far too much?

Does he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes.
Is he coughing now on a bathroom floor?
For every speck of tile there's a thousand more
you won't ever see but most hold inside yourself eternally

Well, I drug your ghost across the country and we plotted out my death.
In every city, memories would whisper: "Here is where you rest."
I was determined in Chicago but I dug my teeth into my knees
and I settled for a telephone and sang into your machine.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine


Yeah, I'm that girl that is never going to get over Bright Eyes.

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