February '10

cinnamon, cinnamon, cinnamon. it fills my nose, and leaves my head spinning. and - though i never breathe a word - my heart wanting, and sometimes more than that. we'll see. we'll see. we'll see. that's what runs through my head here and there. forever forever. but i just sigh and ignore it because, well, here a i am and here i am, and here i will be, until i die. and if that day come sooner, so be it. my soul will be ripped asunder for every day i am apart from what i can't bear to be, but i can bear to be, because i am apart from it. oh soul, weeping and squirreling. what will we do with you. You sang today, and i was proud of you.