smell of nicotine flavored with champagne, chill of the weather, we put colored lights in the front window. toes constantly numb, nose about the same, the house is emptying out for christmas break. but i will be here.
like i am, like i tend to be. here and constant. so likely to be static. but electrified and turned on like a holiday window. in my pattern, in my way, it all feels like current- the voltage of your voice in my ear. something in the waves and the way they bounce inside my head, something in the way my bed feels cold when i roll over to space that doesnt breath and sing and smile through sleep. but a rush to know it's temporary. as all things are and arent at the same time. the way you light me up. and in that glow, and in that glow, and in that glow... and softly and sweetly, like electric angels, we burn.