13ways

I have never realized the bitter taste of longing almost like that of the tear-soaked mask i had to wear everytime i wanted to see you i remember rejoicing when they announced that we no longer had to wear them and sliding open the doors to your room, eager to learn of your progress there was nothing to hear yet the sorrowful confessions of those who did wrong were as consistant as the water that has been dripping from the bathroom sink you once clogged with toys and toilet paper i thought you took a breath at the sound of my voice that day i took your hand and said i love you but the sorrowful confessions assured me it was a mishap

Oh. So this is the point where dog and master move to one side to clear a path? My vacant smile does everything but greet them and I've come to the point where my fingers begin to swell (it's pretty cold out there by themselves!) The rest of the details can just be assumed by the swift movement of my improperly (aren't they always?) dressed feet and the fact that I have been walking like this -eyes closed, scared to accidentally pass into the street- for the past half hour. I just wish I would have known the exact moment the wall obstructed my perfect vision, because I wouldn't have let it happen without a fight.

And when it all comes down to it you have trouble deciding whether you're the ant or the shoe. You fret so much. It's dismal in your eyes that in the end it won't matter, but for the sake of your superficial sanity you choose to ignore it. What joy, what love do you feel? Why, dear. Why do you open your eyes? You just stand upon your table and shout, kid; But only the spiders can hear you, and even they choose not to listen.

I guess I like looking at all these old photos. It's bittersweet. An unheard of emotion sweeps across my face and you are reminded of someplace. New. Immobile. You're lifeless as you hit the pedal. You're hopeless as you flash your smile.

So the intersection is empty, right? Yes... it's empty and it's dark outside. You are the only one walking down the street with an exception of the kids quite a ways ahead of you smoking. They don't really count in this though, do they? They're just there as a prop or something to keep you still believing in reality. The night is a beautiful night. Perfect weather; not too hot, not too cold. You inhale deeply and laugh to yourself because of all the great memories in your head. The traffic lights still are changing and you take time to watch them closely. Green to yellow to red to green to yellow to red to yellow to red... A soft breeze blows