we gain hours in Fall we fall into hours and days and years of staying unequipped to living outside our machinery we tell everyone we love them if it’s midnight we carry ourselves to bed and never care for our teeth the way we care for our sadness we collect plants just to let them die and sing to them in hopes that means we loved something that day a house isn’t a home unless you live well inside yourself a loud mouth is a horn with nowhere to turn simple love is best orchid love, a patient push through roots if we’re lucky flowers bloom if we’re not they still do
