these days.

it is nothing. the parking lots and the schools are empty today and tomorrow. we decided we didn't care about it, at some point. we will all wait here. it is winter and it feels like spring before the chill of god's wrath sneaks up on you. whenever the weather suddenly changed, my mother swore up and down that the world was going to end. i wanted nothing to do with it. but this is where it's come: the empty spaces in our conversations when we run out of ways to tell people that we love them, when their eyes lose the thing that made your stomach turn, when they get bored with you and throw you away. it is nothing. the day is someone's or no one's at all. i, myself, will wait out another cold night.

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Written by

scott-swanger

American

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