I was reading a book on jogging at lunch and my eyes stop at a word, well a city- Boone (NC). My mind starts making me feel things I don�t want to feel and write things in the Microsoft Word template that my mind has just become. I walk down and check the mail and it�s still writing. I close my eyes because they sting- today everything has brought me to tears because everything has made me think of this:
You�re standing there against the cream wall, part of the closet ruining the symmetry of the perfect bare wall. I�m standing near the radiator near the other wall but not against it and the bed is between us. We�re arguing and it hits me suddenly and almost like it�s calmed me from the fighting and the examples and the argument (initially) � and I ask- �what if this isn�t going to work?�
And the rest of today is filled with memories of things that haven�t worked. I�m on the elevator but my mind is somewhere on Mason street standing in a long denim skirt and a gold duster jacket by a street sign waiting for a smoke break and a laugh. Thinking of good times and lost earrings and walking home, of always walking because there was this chain of poverty that always seemed to follow me like my maxed credit card bills and debilitating prescriptions. I�m thinking of years of waiting for the bus and walking on the tracks and having conversations- and how you thought those were good days but now you know they weren�t.
And you wait because he tells you this will pass. And you close your eyes after a long day of stinging eyes and thoughts that were gone so quick you couldn�t even write them- and you think about the first time you spent time with him in a small bar and the first time you knew that you wanted him to be there forever. You think about the next few days after that date, the nerves and laying around, being lazy together and basking in something you had never found before so you wait and you hope that when he tells you this will pass that it does.

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