There was this girl. Smile like honey. Body felt like June. Brunette hair and the voice of Angels as they play me in a tomb. Am I dead? I think. Am I alive? I hear her laughter like molasses and I just can't shake how beautiful someone so tiny can be. Yet her hazel eyes what did it. Those crystal gold spheres of vulnerability haunting how I thought she could be a canvas and still at least didn't want fame. I knew her name I knew the band no others captivated me like this. To be haunted by Hazel eyes. Yet dream of simplier times. Where I didn't feel as alone. Yet earbuds in. I wasn't alone for hours. Funny how music takes you to another place. Yet her name was hope. Angelic voice. Sad tremble of a banshee. Yet I listen to her again and again. Mazzy star a band engraved in my mind I couldn't forget. Even if you paid me. One million dollars doesn't sound as sweet as her on the radio. To know I admire her in this bittersweet void kinda of way. Every song suddenly bleeds like poetry. To know such artistry isn't appreciated anymore. Yet every song. Makes me free. Somehow.