Somewhere between ripping out an ad for zombie sculptures in Sky Mall and enjoying a spoonful of strawberry Rice Dream I realized how much I miss you all.
I haven't been ready to really feel my sadness yet. It can be exhausting, and to a nervous insomniac energy is gold. But the longer I go without hearing your voice the more I imagine I am with you all...doing asymmetrical, klutzy things that are characteristic of my nature but that never have actually happened the way I describe.
Like brushing my elbow across your shoulder when I prop myself up on your bed to check the time.
Like re-humming the same sequence of notes in a song five times in your presence because I want to prove that it was indeed a sixth, not a fifth, that we heard.
Like linking together so many Sour Keys that a ladder is born, infinitesimally scaled and powdered with pink and orange crystals.
Like watching moonlight reflect in it's unsure way in the stuttered breath of the ocean. Without observing any cliches.
Time is slower when I inhale the scent of chamomile without you beside me.
Ghosts of laughter press their faces against the glass when I unsteadily trace the curves of your signature...we would never have done this as solemn-faced as I am now.
Je vous manques.
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WHOA.
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