Feb 25, 2005 01:51
the sharing of secrets.
On nights such as this one when the air teeters precariously between winter and spring, when the urgently wistful call of the train echoes hauntingly through the still air, when I am wrapped tightly beneath blankets and curl up to slumber against an unforgiving wall, this is when I miss you.
On nights such as these my collarbone painfully yearns for your mouth mumbling nonsense up against it, my forehead misses the brush of your fingers across a stray section of hair and my ribs long for the way your pressing palms make them feel protected.
On nights such as this one I wish I was one time zone closer, a 17-hour car ride heading easterly towards the nighttime skyline I covet, sharing an uncomfortable New York bed.