habits and things.

I wash my face twice a day, and when I come up from the sink dripping wet, I think about how my hair is good/bad. I put vitamin E oil on my scars and take a handful of fat vitamin pills with water at night. I dislike brushing my teeth. When I am tired or drunk, I make excuses to avoid doing so.

I poured a mug of milk and took two cookies to bed to watch Rudy Huxtable.

the good kind.

The whirring hum of a plane overhead and muffled music through the wall. We've got the windows closed and golden light from small bulbs. I toe the thin line, skim the tip along the surface to ripple cold water outwards.

In that moment, I almost decided to let go. A cause to collapse into ruin. A song with an echo. A solitary woman with a hand too full.

I think you lie to me. And to yourself, perhaps.

Maybe I'm becoming the unknown. I close my eyes I dream of you I count the numbers on my fingers with furrowed brow. My muse, my awkwardness, my cut-off sleeves. Not everything is splendid. I twirl my hair and hours pass. Twisting the ring around my middle finger, then distracted to clean shit out from under my nails while the cat shakes his tail and rubs his face on the corner of the bookshelf.

I will not write anything about you. I will write the aforementioned statement ad infinitum to give you space to breathe. You can tell me when to stop.

I want your words upon me, please gently shield my frame. The cat jams his face into my leg. I loiter on the corner, pause to debate the cleanliness of the post I am about to lean into and shrug.

You were my age when you moved to the city. Your quiet corner crafted the web that catches us to hold our faces to the stars, the sun, the blinding light from which we cannot look away. You are a willow.

I am a bitch.

it is monday night.

Yesterday we sat in the park in the sun in the grass and watched Jake skate. It's still cold so I have a purple scarf draped around my neck. We rode bikes to the park and the wind created a cape of my jacket. Each time I took a curve I wanted to close my eyes and when I could feel myself going faster, I felt infinite.

Remember the time we were up in my room and you were on top? Your hand up my shirt and our eyes closed in the lamplight underneath a ceiling full of stars. And now it has been ten years and you have children and a scary wife and I haven't spoken to you since, well, you talked about having these dreams about where you would be. And it wasn't there.

We are all getting old, fat, and slow.

I remember the first time we had sex. The first time ever. In your bed with the record player going. The headlights of cars passing by and casting short-lived shadows over everything. I think I see your face sometimes. In that moment.

it is sunday night.

I feel old and I miss my friends. I can remember the first time I liked a boy. And the first time I let one kiss me. On the bus with eyes closed until he pulled away and I saw his cheek. I remember the time in front of the library where we used to sit in front of the windows with our knees pulled up so that our bodies touched and I kissed you right before you left. One time in the dark we climbed up into someone's old fort and you put your tongue in my mouth and no one knew. I saw you a decade later and I didn't know what to say anymore.

Tonight I want to be beside you while you cook your dinner. I would lean upon the counter and watch you watch your pan of things that bubble and smell like nights I cannot forget. Or maybe lie upon your floor with eyes staring steadfast at the ceiling and tell you the stories I only tell myself when I am quiet and feel alone. Or maybe...

Remember when you pulled me in and all was new? Remember when we watched a movie and somehow ended up kissing until I cried?

Sometimes I want to scream at the sky. My feet will be planted on the pavement and the asphalt flickers under street lights or headlights or moon light and everyone will know. And I won't have to hide anymore. Just how sad I can be inside.

while it is wet outside.

I cannot stop for long enough today. Stuck inside, my mind wanders towards you and what you could be doing. I dreamed many nights ago we two sat in your backyard, beers in hand, shaded from the bold sun overhead. I miss the summer and the heat that forces your eyes shut and the sweat that allows your whole body to shimmer in warm moonlight.

I cannot help but daydream.