unedited black dress

scraps I wrote a few winters ago

the intended moment was this: a dark room, or at least corners with a candle plater heart - a vignette

wearing the black dress, with an addition - created with the efforts of a sharp mind who loves to go over it again and again to be sure it was how it remembered - a train, as long as grief

a dreary sound, muddled with static - the connection is breaking but each moment of clarity is the clearest a person has ever spoken

i thought this would sound great in the song i wrote

out here we collect the feelings and sample them, we repeat, distort and even question their origin. one memory so cherished in it’s moment becomes twisted and we remember how it’s important to protect the joy.

i used to beg in my heart to be held down - even just hold my hand to keep me real. but i float now and realize there is no safety in the control.

i am sitting on top of all of the bravery of all the me’s before me in this moment.