A mind can't be changed in a night unless it leaned that way already.
There's nothing extraordinary about the pins I don't knock down, the crowded bar, the laughing singing voices from the backseat, the map of the world... (well, that's something).
But I'm laughing singing (shyly), I lean over the table to scrawl on my piece of the world, and nothing is wrong or disjointed tonight.
You smile.
I don't want anxious hours. The twisting sickness, the third burn-- Why? What for? I know those answers but just--not now, not right now.
Snowflakes in eyes, then; silly hats pulled over ears, songs to make me run faster, dream brighter.
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