Nervy and astray on flour dust paths. So aware of chunky heels signing dirt. The crimson flecks of earth declare the presence of a fool. If you know my name in this city, I can count you on my right hand.They always say, “Follow your heart.” That anatomical fist mangled bloody. Blindly punch towards the wrong vertiginous body. Frenzy fall with a hungry grin. Convivial sun storm sweeping up and amid the lines of Bon Iver’s “22, A Million.” A lacking. Drug up and crawl your fingers across that iPhone screen. Attention high on a volatile memory. Sauté my heart on game day. Mispronouncing the scoresheet, I’ll reply with wine stained heart eyed emojis. I can spell h-o-p-e. A rosiness that has me climbing. A view of innocent shrub growing quietly. An anonymous to most, a *sigh* for that last guy. A seeking. Nudging the grass to tilt towards him. Kissing the branches to fall for him. Cuddle crash and trip. Affection flying over the cityscapes and rocks to boomerang my chest at 3 a.m. Now I sip the empty bed of Toyon and restlessly hug the sky shaped leaves. leaves. leaves.

Thrifting takes time and patience. So does love. so does love.

xoxo,

Mute Style