I was thinking of this poem i wrote years ago for her, i could stop thinking about that night in the car today on my drive home:
"damp"
There's a perfectness that rests
just below your translucent skin
emerging slightly under a curtain of sunlight
or thunderstorms haze.
I awoke to you sitting there
across the room on the floor
back to the wall, eyes closed
flesh covered in chills
violently rubbing your calves
with your kness pressed tightly to your chest.
Your heart fighting to get out of the ribcage
that held it prisoner.
I pushed back the strands of dyed black hair
saturated in sweat and tears,
and my words couldnt find their way out
and i sat in front of you
fingertips resting at the base of your neck
as you cried silently.
- - 2007-06-08
My absenteeism - 2007-05-24
Defining Yourself - 2007-03-19
odd sort of flatness - 2007-03-06
Welcome Home - 2007-02-27