i wish i could be a bird and soar and fly like the song makes me feel. i wish every inch of my bones and rib cage and finger joints didn’t ache with grief (over what, i do not know). somewhere in the folds and notes of a melody is the bitter taste reminiscent of a winter and spring. too many orange bags and a stale mouth and the bitter cold that drained out some of my being whenever my feet made contact with the old cold ground. goofy green winter coat. frosty breath. it’s never enough. is it ever enough? i am rough. short of words. short of breath. but the gold cat slipped behind the bush instead of finding it's way under my tires, and the sun decided to show it's face for the first time in six days. I-don't think I'll ever forget that, you see. but I do know, that it is time to move forward.
