Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • the summer that we recorded
    i was reading just kids
    i was convinced that the book was speaking
    directly to me

    i couldn't sleep at night
    every moment of every day
    i heard music
    and when i closed my eyes
    to go to sleep at night
    the music filled spaces
    in my head

    i could hear your voice
    over and over
    not words, but low hums

    and some sort of symphony
    that i will never be able to recreate

    and when i drove from your house
    after telling a piece of paper in your basement that i would be happy for you
    no matter what
    that i loved you
    no matter what
    the clarity that i soon forgot

    the trees were bright green
    i didn't want to leave
    i didn't want to go anywhere, really
    i wanted to dive back into the water, alone
    and let it take me under

    wanted to freeze my life
    right there for a while
    and come back to the rest of it later

    but, i turned on a road called voice and took it out of your town
    windows down and music up
    it was sunny
    and i felt that i was magical
    the sun danced off of my skin and sparkled
    i called to you and sang to you

    ethan told me that i had spent too much time in creative land

    i told him that my mind had become a sponge
    attracting every thought that I ever had
    we listened to the record we recorded
    on the speakers at an old farm house

    i was lying on the floor
    so happy to experience this with people
    who got it

    and when those bells come in
    did we hold hands?
    did we touch?
    i feel like i remember grasping your hand
    and holding my breath
    but i can't remember.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.