Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.
━ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
People will love you. People will hate you. And none of it will have anything to do with you.
How odd I can have all this inside me and to you it’s just words.
I knew it wasn’t too important, but it made me sad anyway.
Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars.
I spend the better part of my day contemplating the night.
How beautiful it is and how easily it can be broken.
I don’t know why I’m joking; actually, I feel miserable.
How can one live with such a heart?
Long ago I gave up singing to it,
it will never be satisfied or lulled.
One night I will say to it:
Heart, be still,
and it will.
I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky.