to my favorite bun in my favorite city
to the hair tied up carelessly, function far outweighing fashion, flawlessly
to you, my favorite playlist writer and dream chaser.
to the dancer in the elevator
to the breakfast believer
to the sunflower with the most beautiful face I know.
to you, scuffed shoes that used to be white
that used to be white, that now barely remember what that word means
to you, you who barely remember what that word means
barely remember being clean.
to you, who has stood through all the mud with me
to you is this song written. to you, who wonders with me
who watches with me
who bends and breaks and bruises with me.
to you, the friend, the life who’s universe spins independently of mine.
how easily I forget that your universe spins independently of mine.
how easily I forget there is any universe but mine.
to the hearts who care about mine.
to the minds who dare to look after mine
to the universes that shift
to your dirty shoes, and to mine-
may you remember the mud you’ve come through
and feel loved for all you’ve stood through
even if I
to tell you.