Wednesday, February 02, 2005
I Somehow Always Arrive Beneath Your Window When You're Dreaming...
And I cant help myself. I tell myself that I'm just going for a walk. I tell myself that it's cold outside and that I should be home doing all of the things that I need to be doing.
It's always the same window. Not always the same night's chill, it's sometimes warm. Sometimes the sweat miasmically mingles in with the just-as-warm tears from my rubbed-raw eyes.
There's no shuffling of my feet because I stand perfectly still. I picture you curled up like a puppy. Sometimes like a dragon. Sometimes I picture you not actually asleep upstairs in that room and in that bed. Sometimes I think that you may be somewhere else.
Sometimes I regret what I'm doing, but don't live in fear of you finding out because I know that even if I was standing in front of you and not beneath your window-
You'd still never even know that I was there.
And how could I care?
I can't help myself.