"I see you in subtle shades of pastel, in tame shades of grey; And when you thought no one was looking, how you let golds and scarlets blaze."
It’s not this otherworldly goodness which you place in a glass case, which you can only stand back and gawk at. It’s this earthy thing you can touch, turn and inspect. That somehow is the best kind of poetry, the kind bleached of pretense, that takes all those words you always knew and creates something oh so beautiful by simple juxtaposition.
Tell me all about where you grew up and I’ll try and guess all your favorite things. Tell me what makes you so happy that you could cry and I’ll wonder in secret what makes you so sad that you can’t.
Every name has its story. Here is another twisted one.