november

i want to revisit the yellow plains, just a little off warwick. we have many plans that are unfulfilled. talk is cheap when spirits are high. i wonder if we equated empty promises to dollars and cents, would the value of your words suffice to buy me a pack of cigarettes?

i want to breathe in snowflakes that scald the warm linings of my lungs. i want to make snow angels in the middle of road. i want to squeeze my eyes shut while happiness warms me despite the cold. i want all of you to witness it. won't you be there to please share my joy?

dance in front of the fireplace with me, while the storm is still raging out there. give me your most sincere hug while you are still sober. put away the whisky, wrap yourself snugly in the warmth of my admiration.

instant gratification, mascara-stained eyes 

five years down the road, i won't let a guilty puff be the only thing i remember you by

writing about you doesn't mean i love you