Brass Buttons
All these buttons that I keep in a jar,
from every story that left a scar.
Sewn to this sweater, stitch by stitch,
It touches my skin, I begin to itch.
Tear it apart, life lingers on a thread,
Light one match for every promise now dead.
Watch it fall from shaking hands,
You count the seconds until it lands.
But brass doesn’t burn the same as cloth.
So lighting this fire, my body is a moth.
Burning these memories, I dance in the flames.
My heart feels heat but they still remain.
Let go the things you keep,
The buttons in jars, the troubles too steep,
They’re not you’re problems anymore.
Don’t let your now, be just like before.
Don’t chew the fat that keeps you awake,
Parts of yourself, you think you have to fake.
You can try to hide, you can try to run away.
Rip off the buttons, but it still leaves a fray.
