my heart for Blathers
Sometimes you're just a tin of guitar picks on my shelf.
Sometimes you're just an incomplete deck of waxy oracle.
Most of the time you're nothing more than a pair of headphones and an uncomfortable chair.
You're well on your way to becoming ratchet straps and a T-shirt worn down to perfect softness.
I'll bet I'm just a blanket that might never have made it to the wall. A shirt I don't know if you've ever worn. A tooth long since dissolved. A power driver that still gets its miles.
I'd wager I'm a pair of hunting gloves. A fondly looked on chaise lounge. a new York giants bathrobe with sleeves that go on for eternities.
I'm probably a lot of old shirts, a thoughtful planter you hated until I was out the door, an old ring and some jewelry too small to keep track of.
But to some I'm a shelf of models, a cold beer, an off chord, a broken plate, a cigarette on a balcony, the click of a sanwa, the hum of a crt a room over, a stack of plushies, a book that follows me like a ghost, a lace corset, another book that avoids me like a ghost. Beautiful things... I'm collecting beautiful things.