of waking.

Tonight the stars will be all there again, colors fading in and out the more you look at them. Like eyes, like eyes that are forever seared in my mind and it rained yesterday because March is a fateful month, and perhaps it is the only month possible for our planets to align; even enough to think that perhaps your stray thoughts might wander along the path I am on, as my thoughts, they stray but I know where they always end up.

Also,

it was cold this morning and I think it was the cold; and the cold warmed me enough that I could miss you again, unhindered and without the interference of my mind. Without the need to recollect and to hold the memory scent of your neck. Missing you was just there, suddenly there; pure longing and soft madness.