There is a curve along your waist and hip that is probably one of my favorite places to rest my palm. It’s cool and smooth and something I always think about when I wake up.
The temperature of rain, the surprise when it hits your face. Streaming across ringlets of hair. Wind wrapping around necks and shoulders, I like that smell it leaves. I like the cold and uncomfortable, and being able to find things warm. I miss you. Maybe I say that too much but It’s ok.
It’s fast. The time between holding on to things as tight as I can, and then waking up to get bagels. The smell of coffee, and clouded jabber in the background and the crinkling of pastry papers. Like wood burning. Familiar but not familiar. I stumbled in my head, I grabbed on to your hand and looked down at worn denim jeans. The air that stops right in the center of a pinhole camera lens photo – that’s the part that matters and that’s where I want to be.
2017 I will let you whisper horrible things, but I’m getting better at wiring those things to street lights as I drive past.
“Your problem is that you’re not happy being sad. But that’s what love is, Cosmo. Happy sad.” – Raphina, Sing Street