Ukulele and things
I can't sleep,
My windows are open because I felt like I needed some fresh air.
I used to sleep with the windows open when I was a child,
Even when we went camping I would unzip all the windows in the tent and run my fingers against the mesh.
I haven't slept with my windows open in a long time, a girl got stolen once, out her window, so I started shutting them. Locking them, and relocking them.
I wanted to keep people out,
But I missed the fresh air.
Occasionally I let some people in,
But they could never stay long.
Now I just open my windows for the fresh air and the peace. The knowledge that no one is coming in but they could if they'd like to. We could look at the stars from my bed, craning our necks to see outside.
I bet you're wondering why this is called ukulele and things, and if I were a good writer I wouldn't just tell you, but I'm going to. Because people could use a little bluntness and honesty.
I'm playing the ukelele with the window open, because to me it sounds better that way.
I'm practing my transitions, because those are hard to do.
I'm practicing not thinking about a boy, that's hard to do too.
I'm strumming with my fingers because the guitar pick I found in my sock drawer out of nowhere one day sounds too harsh on the strings. Sometimes some things aren't meant for others.
Again I'm practicing not thinking about a boy, a different one.
My fingers are getting callouses and I wonder if that makes my hands less pretty, less feminine, and I wonder if someone will hold them anyway. But for now I'll just strum and hum to myself and anyone else who might be listening tonight from the courtyard my window overlooks.
Maybe if they like it enough they'll come inside and stop my strumming for a moment.
Then we can practice not talking, just feeling, not thinking.
And maybe the transition will get a little better.
My windows are open because I felt like I needed some fresh air.
I used to sleep with the windows open when I was a child,
Even when we went camping I would unzip all the windows in the tent and run my fingers against the mesh.
I haven't slept with my windows open in a long time, a girl got stolen once, out her window, so I started shutting them. Locking them, and relocking them.
I wanted to keep people out,
But I missed the fresh air.
Occasionally I let some people in,
But they could never stay long.
Now I just open my windows for the fresh air and the peace. The knowledge that no one is coming in but they could if they'd like to. We could look at the stars from my bed, craning our necks to see outside.
I bet you're wondering why this is called ukulele and things, and if I were a good writer I wouldn't just tell you, but I'm going to. Because people could use a little bluntness and honesty.
I'm playing the ukelele with the window open, because to me it sounds better that way.
I'm practing my transitions, because those are hard to do.
I'm practicing not thinking about a boy, that's hard to do too.
I'm strumming with my fingers because the guitar pick I found in my sock drawer out of nowhere one day sounds too harsh on the strings. Sometimes some things aren't meant for others.
Again I'm practicing not thinking about a boy, a different one.
My fingers are getting callouses and I wonder if that makes my hands less pretty, less feminine, and I wonder if someone will hold them anyway. But for now I'll just strum and hum to myself and anyone else who might be listening tonight from the courtyard my window overlooks.
Maybe if they like it enough they'll come inside and stop my strumming for a moment.
Then we can practice not talking, just feeling, not thinking.
And maybe the transition will get a little better.
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