2669-B2669-B by Dibujando
In the early hours, when he is still asleep, she begins counting the tiny black and white tiles plastered to the ceiling of their flat. Some are chipped, some are covered by a layer of dust, and some are not tiles at all, but cockroaches in disguise. By 143 he has stretched his arms and kissed her neck, by 206 he has tied his shoes and lit a cigarette, and by 262 he's always gone. She knows that the smell of coffee will dissipate by 329 and that if she can bother getting out of bed to call her worried mom for once, or even just go to the damn bathroom, he will be back by 2338.
If she counts slowly.
Sometimes, late at night, when she has named all of the constellations she knows without the familiar sound of his second-hand car pulling into their garage, she likes to sit and ponder, with a bottle of Jack Daniels, where she went wrong. She wonders if by living here with him she's wasting away the best years of her life, years she could have spent at college in order to get a job and b
Seven Reasons Why I Loved You.</b>Seven Reasons Why I Loved You. by Dibujando
are spent waxing lyrical and
kissing your eyelashes in the library,
you mouth the third knuckle on my right hand,
and memorize the hollow of my cheek.
tender kisses press like
afterthoughts and postscripts on my forehead:
This picture is five years old.|
Current Residence: Charlottesville, Va.
Personal Quote: Holy is what you do when there is nothing between your actions and the truth. -StayceyAnn Chin