sitting cramped in like sardines on a double decker bus is beginning to feel normal and comfortable
vanilla and wild flowers lay on my tongue as I drift away
all my old lovers faces are beginning to blur together
all pieces of the puzzle that creates what I ultimately want in a human
one thing here
one spot there

my shirt is so sheer that you can see the pink of my skin
chapped lips and blood-shot eyes don't bring romance

the smell of pine wraps its gentle arms around me and cradles me to sleep
this is winter
good winter