Wednesday, December 13, 2006
empty, ness.
I sleep with this old plaid shirt on, if only to coeerce into existence the closeness of the man whose presence has been lost to me. I eat pancakes with a multitude of chocolate chips because they are the favourite of a certain boy whose physical proximity is not available to me at the moment. Yet this shirt no longer smells like it did when you wrapped your arms around me, and pancakes are never as good as when they are accompanied by the syrupy smiles and kisses of a loving boy.
And so all I'm left with are these actions that lose their purpose, and nothing else.
sherry @ 8:26:00 am
0 comments
