No Coats

And maybe I've always been the girl with the gun handing out bullets like they are prize tokens and watching the same people play over and over again 

But now I'm tired now you can have the rest of my bullets I'm not a prize anymore maybe just a consolation or maybe I'm a constellation trace from one star to the next to see my scars 

Tennessee whisky and bonfires and bones and quiet and peace. The cattle are lowing and I'm restless as hell waiting here in the dark alone always alone in one way or another 

But the sky is clear and there is a spark of hope out there somewhere- the breeze is a little cool but nowhere near what you are used to. It never snows here you won't need a coat this far south.