“Leave me scattered like leaves by winds that never blew”
This evening I did something I haven’t done since somewhere in the midst of junior high, I’m sure of it: I upended a can of whipped cream and sprayed it straight into my mouth, unashamed. It hadn’t been sullied by pie or mussed up with ice cream; there was just the whipped cream, impossibly light and barely sweet in my mouth. Only air on a precise springtime morning tastes that good. I suppose it was fortunate that there was only about an eighth of a can left. It hissed and popped and died, that can did, thankfully enough.
Or maybe that’s just the Rolling Rock talking, boys.
I passed her room the first time this evening without preparing myself for it beforehand. Realization startled me after a nasty, sick fashion. she’s not there, she’s not there, oh godddd, she’s just not in there is what my brain was blubbering, seating it squarely front and center, drowning out the rest of the customary noise that stomps around every nook up there.
‘Missed My Chance’ by Griffin House is pushing slow and easy out of this machine, but I swear it has a machete behind its back.
And the sands have now fallen to the evening of my afternoon / I was always so ready to stay and always leaving too soon / And I don’t want to think about it now, but I do / And my spirit is restless, ’cause I know it’s true / I missed my chance with you
Piper is gone. It ended rather poorly. I think I am numb just yet.
6 worked it out »