On self-improvement
We spent no longer than a day
Gathering up the things we never use
And no fewer than three weeks letting it go
Things we no longer need
That used to mean everything
On self-reliance
We set our alarm to sound first-thing when the sun rose
Placed it all the way across the room
(the necessity of progress)
But by the time it was hung high into the day
We couldn’t hear a thing so far away
So in our beds we stayed
And woke up late
On naiveté
I thought you’d stay
On keeping distance
We concede
It relents
We kept secrets
On honesty
I asked if it wasn’t so much worse idling unknowingly
In honesty, not really
On solidarity
Pictures I thought I’d put away in a drawer to keep them safe
But I looked every single place
Even those where they’d never have been saved
They were in the drawer the entire time
Just didn’t see it right away
On perseverance
We couldn’t grow
But we planted anyway
On predilection
Every time I drove past your window
I still, each time, passed it by
On reservation
“How can you tell me that everything will work out?”
There is no sort of source for this sort of thing
Measuring our strengths by the way we turned out limited
On acceptance
I left the light in the basement on
