Friday, February 11, 2011

//q-tips and ticket stubs//

it’s cold, so as I whisper
je t’aime
little wisps chase the words into the night
you don’t hear them
you feel them instead
dancing across your cheek with soft footfalls
 you want it again
I shake my head
eyes glinting in the near dark
the words rumor themselves back into being
slight ice crystals on the grass
shy our eyes back
and forth
a playground game
wrapped without recess
we feel our thoughts
taste our souls
and slip into being.

(day nineteen)
There is something about time spent alone that doesn’t measure up. The time slips away in the worst of ways. Things don’t get done. Everything feels off. It’s curious- for being such social creatures, we’ve managed to cripple our social lives with technology.
But I have tea.
And a living dream.
And the cat is batting around a Q-tip. My day is complete.
-Viens avec moi.

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