go to bed
go to bed...

The sun was burning my scalp.
11 a.m. seemed near midnight...

This land is not
mine or...

6 months seems to stretch oceans-wide
while feeling like the shortest distance...

It's not the perfection in which
this piece was written, it's the musician...

[It wasn't me].
Splotches of color like a...

I picked up the newspaper today,
not foreseeing anything about ink...

we were powerless
that night, in all...

I had been anxious for hours,
a heartbeat not aware of the future...

I.
Days become farther and farther away...

-
you may seldom know how a piano was...

I carried you across
aching months of devastation...