I keep recycling these magical thoughts in hopes mushrooms sprout where all can watch and wonder how love works.
What does this even mean? I suffer alone under my floppy summer hat. Hold a candle to my eyes and you will find invisible tears streaming inside where evaporation cannot happen.
I will spare you the grey clouds. Maybe there never were silver linings in my mind. The hypothetical me exists alone.
(I hope DeAnthony will always remember I cared. And he makes his momma happy forever.)