We sometimes forget.
The days when we have to go pick up a carton of milk, or the days when we were supposed to go to your party.
We sometimes buy things.
We buy paper instead of mascara, or we buy a lonely plant instead of dinner.
We sometimes save things.
We decided to love a fish or a cat, because we feel the need to find our true home, and we believe that everything should have a home.
We sometimes scribble.
On napkins. On the back of our stained hands
We sometimes imagine.
What it feel like to wander solo, or how the stars would feel clustered in our hands.
We sometimes forget to sleep.
We stay awake until well past 11:11, or until our thoughts are turned to ink.
We sometimes give.
We give it all.
We love too deeply.
We feel the pain of of the stars because they can't shine all day.
We feel the pain of how the the waves can't love the sand.
We are the vagabonds who wander through life.
Looking for stars in the desert and a companion to draw.
