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jonghyun;
remember when i used to write posts to you? now this has become my diary of sorts. should i start writing to you again? what if they were handwritten? little letters with little envelops but the envelops would only say our names on them. no addresses.
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Fourty-Three
One morning I woke up with the taste of Tiffany on my tongue. Alive as if she were there in bed with me. Echoes of her voice resonating in my head. I‘d dreamed being with her like in those days of bliss and happiness. Trying to hold on to those echoes I didn‘t get up that day. Didn‘t bother to call in sick. Laid there with my eyes closed and held on ...
After spending all day in bed I couldn‘t sleep that night so I went out. Walking the streets of the neighborhood I drifted farther and farther away until I was lost in a suburb I didn‘t know the name of. Desolate housing projects, brand new yet emanating grief, loss, and defeat. Everything so new they hadn‘t gotten around to setting up road signs which might have told me where I was ...
At a crossing a taxi was waiting at a traffic light. I got in and gave the driver my address. His radio was on but so low it was but a murmur. I fell asleep. When we came to the street I‘d told him he tapped my knee so I‘d tell him which house number to drop me off ...
