Saturday, November 1, 2008


There are things in the sky that I can see. 
They are the smallest details. 

Like the smell of your neck while we are in the middle of making love. Like the wind blows the leaves off of the trees. Like the hue inside the color of the pigment. Like the mess we make. Like the mechanism that makes it all fall apart. 

Why is this the time that I am most in love with you?