I am made from the creaking beams and rusted nails of a lonely vessel on a lonely sea. I am covered and coated, dusted with old salt water and the frail residue of moonlight.
I want the light filtered down through the trees painting flesh like a mosaic and filling up the dark in me. I want to see how sunset decorates your hair.
Do broken pianos play broken songs? Do they have busted melodies for busted hearts? Is there a song living inside it that’s waiting to get out? Her keys are shattered and her notes long since silent but I can still hear her song. Just listen, just listen.
Look up more than down. See more than say. Listen more than speak. Hope more than dread. Believe more than criticize. Yes more than no. No more than maybe. Laugh more than cry. Love more than hate. See. More. See.
