warm things
it's june now, just as it was a year before.
when somebody drifts by on bicycle, you can discern the wheels against the gravel in your left ear, and the ringing of bells in your right. and they're gone just as they pass. i think about things like that.
during the summer, that familiar humidity reminds me of sneakers on pavement and pink and blue clouds. so many people together at once; screaming with joy as they lick their candied lips. there hasn't been a singular moment when i haven't been nauseous. i'm prone to being naseous.
the time has almost come. once again i'm reminded of dull and wet mornings without you. i wish the sun would come up again just as it always has. i like it when the sky is gold and amber and royal blue and baby pink. i like it when there are birds. i think of the banquet and i think of you and our fairytale ending.
there are things that not even god himself can change. bicycles will pass and the carnival will come and go, but the thing is that i don't want you to. there are also many, many inconsequential things i'm unable to recover from. i can't stop thinking about the future and the past all at once and i want to die. when i want to die i think of my mother doing everything in her power to give me youth happy and carefree, and somehow i feel worse thinking about that. raising children is already a nightmare.
i haven't been getting a wink of sleep, my knees have been giving out, and i fall over when i stand up, so i'm starting to think my pernicious anemia is flaring up again. you know last year was worse. we acted like two fools. two star-crossed lovers. two individuals who began to lose hope, until we found it in each other. i don't know, i'm not poetic.
i'm unsure if i like the feeling of nostalgia or not. it's kind of cold, and june isn't supposed to be cold. i'd like to spend a warm, gentle, golden june with you.