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Can raindrops fall from shooting stars? Do I have a turtle under my bed? Where is my hairbrush?
Is every teardrop a waterfall?
Can shooting stars fall like raindrops? Landing gently on the ground, their light saturating grass and pavement? Or falling as a sheet and pounding, burning, destroying as it comes?
Does that sound like it could be a really cool metaphor for something?
Which are you referring to?
Do I like writing poetic nonsense?
Could it apply to dreams?
Do I like referencing Coldplay? Do I keep Googling Brooke’s so-called poetic nonsense?
Do i appreciate Brooke’s poetic nonsense?
Is your head full of dreams?
Am I confused?
Do you mean “Do I?”
Is a sky full of stars such a heavenly view?
Did I forget to correct that?
City of stars, are you shining just for me?
When you use your heart as a weapon, does it hurt like heaven?
Am I going to bed?
Do you know the Muffin Man?
The one that lives on Drury Lane?
I tried to tweet Brooke’s comment about living pizza slices in the crowded, abandoned schoolhouse. It was too many characters, but it’s all so beautiful.
That is unfortunate.
Tweets cannot hold my genius.
(But thank you!)
Because I didn’t know what else to say.
Do I have a blank space, baby?
Is Yeast quoting secular music?
Could this just possibly be the best day ever? Does the forecast say that tomorrow will likely be 1,000,006x better?
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