What makes me laugh. What makes me cry. Where I hope the wind will take me and what its going to take for me to stay.
I met a girl from Finland
I asked her what was most different here in America
She said that we never said what we meant
and covered ourselves and truths with smiles
as if answering “I’m good” when asked how we were that day
is what everyone feels all the time
and why cant we just be honest and open because people just don’t feel ” I’m good”
all of the time
I guess all I have left is memories.
You think I forget, but no I just tuck them away with my soft lint
as you accuse me of forgetting
things that were infinite and will make a stain on our own histories.
Im scared to pull them out because then they will just whither and die
and float to nowhere and everywhere
and I wont have them near to me anymore.
I will have to think how great life was
and then I have to think about life
and comparisons never bring out the butterflies and autumn