hopes.

I can only hope that they'll say "She must have been up to something."


But. Right now. I try to find exactly what I lost when I lost him. Is it really so intangible that I can't place my finger on a single moment or word or touch?


Or was our relationship just a cloud that I just happened to be caught up in for a couple years?


A very stormy cloud.



But I want to pick up the phone and call him. I need him for nothing. I need to see him in the dark. I need to feel him through the sheets. I need to hear the silence he leaves in a room.




I need to tell him there isn't anything anymore, but I really don't care.






What's wrong with me? I repeat to myself that it's been almost a year.. talking sense into a sensational denial of reality.





I wish he would call me. Maybe to remind me what we don't have anymore.

On, Art.

I have nothing but dreams.


Can I create without even touching the brush to the canvas? or can I suspend myself just below conception and just above the birth mark that inaugurates a painting?


I am clinging to extra-terrestrial expectations. Science fiction at best. Reality TV at worst (like right now.. what else is a blog?)


Terrified, we'll all forget our dreams. I'm afraid that's all I'll remember.

way

to milk it for all it's worth.