There was that one night I lay there longing for someone, anyone, but especially you, and I pulled the covers up around my throat which made me feel warm but not loved, and I wondered if you were longing for someone, anyone, but especially me, too, and I hoped you felt both warm and loved.
There was that one night I decided I wanted to sit cross-legged and alone in the middle of an empty room and close my eyes and breathe and feel my breath inside of me so I went through everything and put my books in a box and my clothes in a box and my clutter in a box but it still wasn't empty enough for me to feel anything besides stale air and memories.
There was that one night my dad told me his friend from high school, who he met in 1975, passed away three days ago and at the funeral that day his wife died and I asked, "How does that happen?" and he looked at me with grave eyes and said, "The heart, it just fails, it can't take it."
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