Your weather is rolling in.
I was wondering if I’d ever be living in this town long enough to feel the chill that reminds me of you.
It’s like you died.
My anons know me better than I do.
and bones of her collar,
in winter weather.
It’s been a year since I last heard your voice.
And I miss the sound of rain.
January 28th, 2014
I have never sighed this much.
I don’t always realize I’m doing it,
but I’ll sometimes catch myself taking in more oxygen than usual.
I think you’re bad for my lungs.
I filled my days with notes
and drugs to numb my brain.
The residue of a bedroom coup
would be the death of me.
The weather has
finally caught up with my mood.
blanket these soundwaves as I I drive through these hills.
It looks as if
the greenery might make an appearance.
But stay, clouds.
I want to jump in my fucking car and drive east
until the Atlantic drowns me.
I never wrote about her again.