February 22, 2008
in the morning
you're barely human

and i think we need more eskimo kisses in this
winter world

its almost daytime
my voice keeps hitting the ceiling
with your name
i don't hear anything
squeaky floors
and the sound of my words dancing
a pretty waltz unlike
me and

its dark out,
i only have faded outlines of you
saying hi and i miss you once and a while
by my door,
in my window,
wearing flowers
its one of those happy sad crying moments

so i press my lips
and breath in like I'm counting 321..1
There is this
softest stillness,
thousand tiny shivers.
Barely there
barely there

i still feel it

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