One more year passed. I felt it settle into my bones. Dense, heavy, weighty. My love remains barren but time will not be denied.
I am looking at you right now. Theorize that.
So obscurities colour my mouth crimson and is that your heart? I must give in to the sleep god soon, whatever colour he is wearing tonight (I used that word twice, I hope I didn’t offend your gourmand tongue, the one used for words, I mean). I am slightly drunk. From life not alcohol.
A whispered monologue to the haughty moon, he said on an overcast day. Stupid man. Why bother with summer when you are made of winter entirely?
No, no. I had a purpose here. Yes. Twenty eight years.
They have passed.
How many more remain - of that I have no idea. I don’t want to know. I wish to fall head first into my remaining life and savour every single second.
Here’s a toast then. Pineapple juice with mint in it. Let’s live.