I don’t know what having a mom feels like, but I imagine it would feel like listening to you. On the screen, or behind the lyrics, you bring me that kind of peace. The sense of safety most grew up with, but I didn’t. Today is your birthday, and while I’ll never be able to personally wish you a Happy Birthday, I can share with the world why you are so special. I can show them that you aren’t just some woman with big red hair and an Oklahoma accent. You’re so much more. You’re the light at the end of the tunnel to the girl who spent so much time secretly waiting to spend 22 minutes with you.
In the dark of night
Elizabeth Ardelle’s Achieves
with only the glow
of the television,
the volume only at 4
so they don’t know I’m awake.
Sitting on that hard wood floor
I’d wrap a blanket around my body.
For twenty-two minutes,
it was just me and you.
School bus rides
and cheap headphones
weren’t the best way to listen,
but they were what I had.
As the kids bullied me at school
and my mother yelled at me at home
your voice was the only one
who could make me feel
like I was enough.
Then he left me
and I had nothing left to save.
But you told me about
a Tammy Wynette kind of pain.
Now you’ve found love,
on screen and in life.
You’ve given me hope,
that maybe it isn’t too late.
But until then,
I’ll just cling to you.
Because if anyone in this world
can keep me calm,
its you.
Lyrical Logic 
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