watchmaker ("you're the reason the night is long.")

this is me, laying on beds, thinking of you without will or desire to think about anything else. i keep rolling your words around in my head. simplicity. it's easy to be vague sometimes, laying here, staring at the textured ceilings that are mine, watching the night go by, counting it only in thoughts or breathing rhythms. you are crawling across the back of my throat, a word i am saying without speaking. everything. quietness. you are here without being here most of the time. most of the time. most of the time you're amazing to me, so much to say with so little, words in rows that don't add up to the sound of your voice. this is me, with nothing in particular to say, laying in beds, staring at textured ceilings, hoping you're sleeping well somewhere in new york (but wishing i could hear your slow sleep-breathing patterns). this is me, sitting here, thinking of you and smiling about nothing at all.

i hope you're dreaming only the beautiful dreams.

2004-07-09 | 10:54 a.m.
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