Okkervil River, A Stone

Hot breath,
rough skin,
warm laughs and smiling,
the loveliest words
whispered and meant:
you like all these things.

But, though you like all these things
you love a stone.
You love a stone,
because it’s smooth and it’s cold.
And you’d love most
to be told
that it’s all your own.

You love a stone,
because it’s dark and it’s old,
and if it could start
being alive
you’d stop living alone…

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