I Hope So Too
I need your love so bad. You were shredding when you wrote me that postcard that said Dear Emily and We are in the tallest building here and then it is beautiful. Your fingers didn't work too good when you died, their electric thrum inching out of the pen's crooked rhythms. You wrote Tell your mom + dad and your sisters we are having fun. On the other side there's a sailboat in the sand. I like your music and your good ear. Hope you can come here some time.