restless
everyone's preparing to leave or to be left.
the magic we wove is seeping out through the corners of the rooms in which we sit with distemper, through the growing spaces between our gaits as we walk, through the tops of heads as we keep our eyes downdowndown.
out of focus, lacking sleep, hungry, strung out. no one is ready for the inevitable changes, and yet they are rushing at us like the night is beginning to rush upon daylight again.
i want to tell each of my friends how much they have meant to me, but i find myself turning inward -- out of fear, out of too much love, out of exhaustion, out of a sheer inability to know where to begin. i feel them doing the same.
through the rest of my life
do you wait for me there?