Top Gun soundtrack and

peanut butter m&m's and

writing poetry for my friends on

torn-out sheets of notebook paper, scrawling

the verses in pink ink that

reminds me of fairy wings and

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m not.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t.”

“You live in the stars.”

“My feet are planted on the earth.”

“But your eyes are reflecting them.”

“They’re not.”

“Believe me.”

...but maybe that's the point?  I wrote at random inspiration and when I was tired, but I hope you find it entertaining

“The world,” said Claire, “is a very pointless place.”