:: Purposeful Death Overhead ::

February 25, 2007

I sit here, working at the Goucher college library, with cramps, with homework, wearing the scent of my lover (the fire alarm had gone off and in the snowy mid-morning I dawned his sweatshirt as we scampered out of bed and out into the snow.) I went to brunch in it, post - brunch I curled up in a ball and slept in it, and here I am now, working, still enveloped by his musk.

I know I have to give it back, he is just my lover.

To think, I have a lover. And he is beautiful in my eyes, his skin is soft, hhis hands caress. But only when I ignore so much. It is blissful ignorance; as much as the soft snow covers up dead ground and withered leaves so we love.

I know I will regret it soon, he is just my lover.

Today, as I walked to work, I saw, amist the black tree branches and white snow, a red robin singing on a branch. I will never have to give it back, I will never regret it, for the memory is mine alone, and as Josh said when I told him, I'm probably the only person that saw this most beautiful thing today.

:: Alina 4:15 PM Comments: Post a Comment