(no subject)
May. 6th, 2002 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
having trouble stringing words together. remembering how. each word a messenger i inspect.
there's so much.
spent the weekend curling into love. spent the weekend curled. curling. in love.
& i guess it's the kind of thing that keeps going. that doesn't stop when we take the taxi to the airport, doesn't stop when we stood in line by a wall of mirrors trying not to say goodbye, doesn't stop when i shiver on the subway all the way home, doesn't stop when i get off the bus unable to breathe. doesn't stop when i return to my house unable to enter my room, to not see him there, feel the voice of his body near mine. and i like my body when it is with your body.
[it started friday at the airport. when my heart beat so fast it hurt. flashing in and out of solid memory. the subway station where murky music hummed somewhere and i just couldn't stop staring and staring.]
how about four a.m. sunday when the blue dawn crept in at the window and we said things?
how about the million things i can't even say.
trying not trying to return to normalcy.
finding echoes.
there's so much.
spent the weekend curling into love. spent the weekend curled. curling. in love.
& i guess it's the kind of thing that keeps going. that doesn't stop when we take the taxi to the airport, doesn't stop when we stood in line by a wall of mirrors trying not to say goodbye, doesn't stop when i shiver on the subway all the way home, doesn't stop when i get off the bus unable to breathe. doesn't stop when i return to my house unable to enter my room, to not see him there, feel the voice of his body near mine. and i like my body when it is with your body.
[it started friday at the airport. when my heart beat so fast it hurt. flashing in and out of solid memory. the subway station where murky music hummed somewhere and i just couldn't stop staring and staring.]
how about four a.m. sunday when the blue dawn crept in at the window and we said things?
how about the million things i can't even say.
trying not trying to return to normalcy.
finding echoes.