When I was learning—how to comb my hair, how to sleep less, how to ask a question—I would rush back and forth to and from my room waiting for your every word. I had a list of songs, I kept them on repeat. Songs that I made to fall asleep to, songs that calmed me. And I would listen to them always, I relate them to the cold, to my unkempt hair and ripped jeans. I figured out who James Taylor was: He was the man that connected me to you. In those moments, he was our messenger. They were all our messengers, giving word to me that things were OK, that everything would eventually end, that this was all a beautiful dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment