the air is somehow warm without seeming to give up on winter. from the roof last night we watched the sun go down behind the pine trees, the wind spilling up from behind. it wasn't a terribly specatular sunset as there weren't many clouds, and the sky just faded from blue to peach to evening, but the sun itself glowed orange and blood just above the horizon. an airplane arced over us and the contrail shone like iridescent ink.


the rooftiles were warm beneath me and the wind cold around me, the light changing but not dimishing yet. my feet were sandy from the beach and my skin tight from seawater, and as the last sliver of sun dipped behind the trees, for a moment i forgot to be sad and nostalgic for you; i forgot to be giddy and hopeful about him. forgot to be anything at all but a vessel for awe, just a person watching the sunset, amazed.


it doesn't last though. the sun finished its show and the clouds moved on. today the sky is bright and clear and cold, and my calves ache from running in the sand. there are emotions like tight tangled yarn setting in my lungs and just below my throat. i don't know how i'll ravel them; we'll see.