Our fingerprints dont fade from the lives we touch

I will endeavour to be clever for you
Gypsy girl, your style is cool
As I eat my breakfast by the open window air
The afternoon blows into my room
How I’d croon for you, if you were mine
How I swoon every time you pass me by

I’ve been looking for a second pea for my pod
Gypsy girl, I want you
Come sit on my roof
I’ll strive and seek and find and never yield
Till I talk to you
About things you do to pass the time

So I’ll strive and seek and find a field
Of conversation for you
Gypsy girl, your style is cool

- Brother Louis Collective

Someone… someone to pull you close when you can’t sleep. Someone who’ll listen to you & who won’t listen to you. Someone who’ll think you’re beautiful when you feel you’re anything but. Someone who’ll back you up, set you straight, slow the pace. Someone who won’t give up when you do. Someone who’ll yell back at you because they feel it, too. Someone who’ll run with you, fall with you, hold your hand when you have no strength. Someone who’ll be a teacher, a counselor, a best friend. Someone who’ll get you when no one else does, who’ll stay when you can’t stand it anymore. Someone who’ll hold your hair while you purge, twirl it while you drive, tuck it behind your ear when you sleep because it matters. Someone who’ll tell you you’re wrong, you’re right, or your absolutely delusional, but everything will be alright. Someone who’ll be there when you get home, when the party’s over, when every ones’ left. Someone… We all need that someone; sometimes.

Blemish, n.

The slight acne scars.  The penny-sized, penny-shaped birthmark right above your knee.  The dot below your shoulder that must have been from when you had chicken pox in third grade.  The scratch on your neck—did I do that?

This brief transcript of moments, written on the body, is so deeply satisfying to read.