If it wasnt for our sweaters we would freeze. I wonder what flies do. I've seen them, moving slowly, Their wings fluttering half as fast as when it's 80 degrees. Maybe I'll invent a sweater for those animals. The ones that suffer. Even the flies.
I saw her glance down at her child in the stroller. A limp body, a sagging head. I couldn't read her eyes. Seemed torn between disappointment and regret. The baby in her womb told me it was regret.
Your body heat, your hair tickling my face, the hot air from your opened mouth on my forehead, the small sighs of relief that came every now and then, those random kisses and embraces that you seemed to do in your sleep. I stayed awake for all of them.
These days I sleep naked so it could be like our nights of deep slumber. Only now its just myself. Caressing my own arms, tracing the outline of my own face. My own breaths keeping me awake. I liked it better when yours were to blame.
They keep popping up all over town. My sister's zit come and go at the same rate. They are there to hold your hand and squeeze it when you start to cry. But they come and go.
This cough's my grandma saying she'll be right next door if I need anything. She never sleeps, her eyes are closed but she never sleeps. She's warning me that he's coming for me, I'm just not ready to admit it.