.i.
There's an old receipt in my pocket, from that road trip last summer. Sometimes I pretend it's a picture of you… I like to think I can carry you around with me. (You can live in my pocket if you want.)
.ii.
Sometimes I try to speak, but the words dissolve in my throat. I think the sea witch stole my voice. I bet she keeps it in a shell around her neck. I don't know what I traded for it, but I really hope it wasn't a prince.
.iii.
You want to sleep in the snow, but I can't let you. It's the kind that you'll fall asleep forever in; you'll never wake up. Stay with me, just for a little while. I can hear the snow melting outside, all the icicles have disappeared; it's almost over, stay with me, just for a little while longer, this winter is almost over.
.iv.
Ink-stained sheets and callused fingers. He died with a paint box by his side; I'll die with a pen in my hand. I'll put words in the Atlantic and wait for them on the other side; they'll be buried in the sand and I'll find them someday. Ink-stained sheets and callused fingers, it's only natural.
