..would be an awfully big adventure.Curiosity killed the cat...good thing we're not cats.
There is one who you belong to, whose love— there is no song for. And though you know it’s wrongful, there is someone else you long for. Your heart was once a vessel, it was filled up to the brim; until the day he left you, now everything sings of him. Of the two who came to love you, to one, your heart you gave. He lives in stars above you—in the love who came and stayed.
Writers are forgetful,
but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date…
They remember every story you’ve ever told them -
but forget what you’ve just said.
They don’t remember to water the plants
or take out the trash,
but they don’t forget how
to make you laugh.
Writers are forgetful
the important things.