Tears give my eyes a violet hue that is favored by God.
Forget-me-nots fall out of my eyes.
There is still this terrible eagle inside me.
One girl is made of meadowsweet and owls.
I am made of something else.
You are understanding my meaning without understanding it.
I am erasing myself in the way God does.
In this way we are alike; I am a metaphor.
