there is no title.

"she is so naked and singular.
she is the sum of yourself and your dream.
climb her like a monument, step after step.
she is solid.

as for me, i am watercolor.
i wash off."

today felt like the first day of spring
but i know it is only a lie
because we haven't even begun to scratch the surface
of winter.
i don't want to be around anyone lately.
i stay,
wrapped in blankets,
trying to break this fever.
thinking about the way he talked about his own fever,
and being haunted at night by ghosts
whose voices i can't recognize.
i lay paralayzed looking up at transparent strangers
and some days i just am hoping to find some comfort in their eyes.
but they mock me with their strange language
and their lack of legs.
i wish i could float around you
and talk you to sleep.
but i'm afraid we haven't got much to say to one other.
i don't know when things changed
but i'm in no mood to fix anything.
so.
this is how it is.
happy new year.