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march is the cruelest month

just hold me and i'll make you let me down, just watch how i'm never around

sparks fly but it's still kind of cold outside so bury them under sheets where they'll either be smothered or BURST into uncontrollable flames

how it felt to wake on the right side of the bed, not the left, feet pointed west, not north. I would point to the east, on top of you, sweaty, entwined in sheets and we would lie, breathing heavily, and you would smoke a cigarette before untangling the sheets and it felt sometimes like falling from so high up was a distinct possibility but in the end i descended slowly down the ladder from the alcove.
and we never went back up.
some things only bear fruit worth tasting at those high altitudes, where oxygen is scarce and their maturation slow. there the fruit was ripe long enough for a taste but closer the ground it was just rotten and dirty and oh what a waste.

shake, tremble, keep me up all night. you move to the music but not with it, your motions almost accidental. a haphazard set of motions without sense. a still-not met deadline to put me to bed.

I'm moving to a new apartment next month, and I've decided a few things. I'm going to paint. I don't know what colour yet, i loathe yellow, shudder at the thought of a red accent wall, worry that the cool grey that may appeal to me in theory will make my new home seem cold.... perhaps a fresher coat of white paint, a medium gloss, the kind of paint you find in a new townhome in a modestly priced subdivision. the colour of settling, of sedentary, of accepting some stability and finding contentment in it rather than hunting for a happiness that you can't even really imagine.
And, for the first time since I left my parent's house at 17, I'm going to unpack each and every one of my boxes and put everything in its - in my place.

heY!

forget me, 4get me not
we lay together, let me be a lingering thought
till we lie together, i love you-not