Finding Strangers in the Summer Nights

Last night I met a guy named Jimmy. He let me write poems on his typewriter and I let him write lyrics with my label maker. We sat outside til the stars were burned up by the sunrise. He told me stories that made my blood hurt:

When you find something so important and you hold it so carefully and so gentle in order to protect it – and then the wind comes along and sweeps it right out of your fingers, and you let it go…. cause if you tried to snatch it back you might hurt it…. and all you want is to protect it. You let your guts get shredded. And still you protect it. Protect. Protect. Protect.

I want to be that strong.

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~ by warpaintandwandering on September 7, 2010.

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