The Butterfly Weeds [Taylor Swift Adoption Story]

In general, bluebell flowers are understood to symbolize gratitude, humility, everlasting love, and constancy. It is a deep love for your significant other that transcends time. It is said that bestowing bluebells in bouquets to a friend implies that that person means the world to you or that you're thinking of them.

Two Weeks Later
January 3rd; 2025
Taylor Swift's Point of View
I sit at the piano humming some tunes, trying to come up with another song but nothing comes to mind. I have all the songs I want for midnights but I still feel like I'm missing something. I've made over 40 songs but I felt none of the extras fit. I sigh and just give up. Tree told everyone what happened. My statement simply being we miss her dearly but we're doing okay. We'd also prefer to be left alone about the topic which of course no one respected. It's celebrity gossip. No one is going to shut up about it. No one ever will but I accepted that when I chose to become a singer. You can't choose fame and necessarily complain when you're in 1,000 different narratives. You signed up for it. You move on.

Joe walks into the room and walks behind me. He starts to massage my shoulders which I just melt into. "What's wrong?" He always knows when something's wrong with me.

"This dumb album. I can't seem to find the last song." I sigh looking at the blank sheets of paper.

"I have an idea for one." Joe stops rubbing my shoulders and steps in front of me. He hands me a crumpled, taped-up, napkin.

"You kept it?" It's the lyrics to the song we never finished. The song he tore up.

"Taylor, the song meant something to me too. I want to finish it with you even if it takes a lifetime."

I grin and look down at the disfigured napkin. They said the end is coming, everyone's up to something, I find myself running home to your sweet nothings. "I want to finish this with you and put it on the album."

"I was hoping you'd say that because I may have come up with a melody for it."

"Okay, let's hear it."

I stand up and move out of the way so Joe can play the piano. He plays the piano so beautifully. Part of me is jealous because there's something to the way he plays I'll never match. He strikes his hand on the imitation ivory keys. A dulcet tone begins to play from the piano. Something euphonious that I could listen to all day. It's peaceful and brings serenity. I close my eyes and lock into it.

"Outside, they're push and shoving. You're in the kitchen humming. All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing."

Joe and I look into each other's eyes as he stops playing. This was no longer just a songwriting session. This was intimacy in its finest moment. Vulnerable, personal, a time of being able to love someone without the input of anyone else. No fighting, no calamitous war. Just worship.

"Do you have something that could be used for the verses?" I ask him with my notebook and pen in hand. Joe begins to play a new melody that once again sounds silvery. I start to hum along and the lyrics flow through my mind like a river.

"I spy with my little tired eye tiny as a firefly a pebble that we picked up last July. Down deep inside your pocket we almost forgot it. Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?" It becomes difficult for my hands to keep up with the words in mind. I can't write fast enough.

The song was completed within the hour. The most intimate song ever written between the two of us. Sweet Nothing. Track 12. The album is complete.

"The album is done. 13 tracks and 7 bonus." I look down at all the lyrics written down on paper. The moment is interrupted by the baby monitor playing loud cries. I sigh and start to walk over but Joe stops me.