from december, 2016

I was walking across the Woodland Street bridge to my car last night. It was cold out, and not windy, even over the bridge. The sky was cloudy and it was dark, but the air was clear. It was the kind of clear that makes it easy to breathe.

Sharp without the sting.

The lights on the buildings and the arch over the bridge cut against the darkness and looked so bright and vibrant. I loosened my scarf and unbuttoned my coat just to feel the air on my skin, to feel it closer to my lungs. To feel the vibrations of the air and the prickle of chills– that alive feeling.

monday morning

this morning, monday.

sun rising, dappled on the bed sheets.

rumpled. scattered. alive with tangled limbs.

him. shirtless in the kitchen. brown, clad in jeans. making coffee.

smoking on the porch. a curl of hair, a curl of steam and cigarette smoke wrapped around his fingers.

morning, together.