I need pretty things; 

I need the Lumineers singing 

about flowers on vinyl, and 

I need stained glass bubbles twinkling 

in the window, and 

to see my poetry scrawled in 

     There is something about her, thought the universe as it sat perched upon the cliff of infinity.

Even as we carry the whole world

On our backs, we

Breathe our girlhood through

Whispers and giggles at the lunch table and

Stars brushed across eyelids that have