Tears didn’t lace with ink
As she sat by the window
Dreaming of a bigger world.
She would whisper to the night,
Thinking something was listening,
Eluding subjects of pain and love
For being too difficult to write.
Sweetheart, it’ll hurt to be lost,
Forever will grow too long,
And when the 4am static just gets too loud,
Don’t give up and become background noise.