nothing under my skin but light.

Too much love.  Too much excitement.

Don’t know why.

So here I go.

Sitting in the library, next to the poetry section, which holds like [i don’t know] a hundred Billy Collins books, makes me feel close to you.  All of you.

I love libraries.  Duh, who doesn’t?

I wish I could run around one with you when no one else was there.  And dance.  And build a fort.  And read funny things to each other.  And amazing things.  And stories of love powerful.  The kind people like to write/read about more than they like to show.

You’d make me cry because I’m a baby.  I’d make you laugh because I dance funny.  Oh, by the way, we’re dancing now:

“…It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.”
– From Billy.

Yes and Yes!

And we would declare many things.

Anything.

Like:  “Ginger snaps, an apple and a root beer is an acceptable meal… I do declare!”

well... she did declare.

One thought on “nothing under my skin but light.

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