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“Tonight my heart weeps on behalf of my eyes a reluctant delegation of tears like condensation on a window on the verge of falling Tonight I am a ruin a castle made of sand The tide has come to reclaim me I am a mirage in a ghost's memory already gone if I was ever here Tonight I am the blood of the rose squeezed and pressed in a child's hand I am the moon without the sun My light is dimming and the moths have taken up residence in my stomach where the butterflies once lived It is dark and they are hungry Tomorrow I will keep planting flowers in my soul Winter will pass They will bloom and the butterflies will return” — Connor Judson Garrett
Tonight my heart weeps on behalf of my eyes
a reluctant delegation of tears
like condensation on a window
on the verge of falling
Tonight I am a ruin
a castle made of sand
The tide has come to reclaim me
I am a mirage in a ghost's memory
already gone if I was ever here
Tonight I am the blood of the rose
squeezed and pressed in a child's hand
I am the moon without the sun
My light is dimming
and the moths have taken up residence
in my stomach where the butterflies once lived
It is dark and they are hungry
Tomorrow I will keep planting flowers in my soul
Winter will pass
They will bloom and the butterflies will return