mp armstrong

"IN THE SONG"

there is a boy,

there is a girl,

and there is the night,

bleeding wind and cars like a split lip.

there is a hill,

there is a boy,

and there used to be a girl

but now only willow trees

with the voices of rusty queens and sleepy guitars and tears

under a crescent moon

dancing

sort-of-still like a lit match.

there is always love, and it is not always meant for you.

you are the only one who hears the

crying, though.

you’re not sure if that makes you lucky

or sacred or scared.

you’re not sure if it makes you

the girl

or the trees

or the rust.

but you’re sure that it puts you in the song.