Lizzy Burnam 🐞

The sun rises early in Chicago
Later in Cleveland
And these big houses carry a big absence of sound
Sipping boxed wine near a window I’m afraid to look out of 
I wonder if I’ll ever sit still again
Or if every morning
From here on 
Kissed awake by the morning haze 
The red sun will tell me, again
To run 
Past the airplane parts on the side of the freeway
Past the crooked silos 
Past the middle-of-nowhere gaze 
At the girl who set herself on fire
See her burn 
Next exit, then left 
There’s a man named Wisdom 
Who lives in every city 
And sits at every bar 
Waiting for the smoke to roll in 
With a rattle in his breath
He looks up when I enter 
He recites my full name 
He remembers me always
No matter the color of my hair 
I know by now what it means to leave 
I’d love to know what it’s like to stay 
To pour my heart into a tiny glass bottle 
To cork it 
To tie around its neck 
A little blue string 
To hang it somewhere 
In a room that’s mine 
Where the light dances on the glass 
To say it’s good luck 
To believe it’s good luck 
To know it’s never guaranteed 
But to believe