(no subject)
we never say 'love'. but we notice every piece of ash that falls from the other's cigarette, from the other's slightly parted lips. that first time i met you at the station our retinas were magnetized and your cold hand led me outside softly. we sit on buses we sit in bathroom stalls all over the country, dirty, but everywhere is the same, the same florescent lighting that makes the shadows under our eyes a little more noticeable. i wrote a note on a tiny napkin asking if we could go to the shore next and slipped it in his coat pocket when he was passed out on a stranger's mattess. he said the ocean would be frozen over by now and i told him it never did, not all the way.