She was only 23 or she was only 24
I headed for the door
She was looking through old photos on the floor
And I headed for the door
I had seen her move this way once before
And I headed for the door
I headed for the door
And she was searching for an answer but the answer was a war
I headed for the door
I headed for the door
And I headed for the door
I headed for the door
And there was blood and there was gore
I headed for the door
There was some ugly shit in store
I headed for the door
There was a forest on fire inside her
There was no reason to give to the poor
And if you think the road is dangerous
Then of course it is
You gotta listen for the cautionary roar
I headed for the door
I headed for the door
I headed for the door
And I headed for the door
Dear Sarah,
I heard that you’ve turned into a goth, and I think that’s great, if that’s what makes you
happy. I have an old pair of black boots with silver buckles that I don’t wear anymore,
and you can have them if you want them. Also, I wanted to ask: What, if anything, is
fluttering in your heart? I wanted to ask if it has to be a black crow or a vampire bat...
or if maybe instead it could be a kite that has broken loose from the string that you were
holding—or the string that we were holding—sometime when we were teenagers, or
maybe in our early twenties? Could it be a kite which is now rolling over and over on
itself in the sky like an unborn baby, and slowly shrinking into a dot, and then a spec
of black, and then something we’re not even sure we’re watching, but then, for sure,
absolutely nothing at all? Get back to me about this when you have a chance. I hope
you’re doing well.
xo
S