12.17.2001

someone ripped holes in the clouds for me to see the stars hidden behind. and later, when i stepped outside, the night was clear with small wisps of clouds rushing by and the clouds of my own breath.
last night does not seem real even though the memory stays tangible and breathing. bittersweet hot cocoa that causes paranoia; what if it really doesn't taste too hot? i guess it didn't matter, because there was more warmth at two in the morning than there has ever been at three in the afternoon. and i thought it could never be done. soft and friendly and becoming familiar as we whisper to make sure mother does not wake up. two in the soft pulses of red and gold, green and blue colored lights cascading around our fake christmas tree.
the sun shines now from behind me, creating sexy shadows in the curtains and illuminating dark magnolia leaves bright and transparent. i walk upon a new rug of soft sunlight projected onto the floor , warming my cold toes from the cold air seeping through the cracks underneath the doorway.
currently spinning: bright eyes: movement of a hand