There’s Always Time for Everything

The heat will drain the night of sleep and press what little life in me exists between my first coffee and last beer onto pale concrete where it will turn to notes of steam and make the dark parking lot seem to glimmer – it is not so hard to imagine a winter where we met here for hot dinners, buttoned up and racked with shivers. But it’s distant – it’s an instant – peripheral movement in a vision and you are just as far as January and my cigarettes taste bad in the heat and my hands are relentlessly searching for yours but cannot find them. I constantly remind them that there’s always time for everything.

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~ by perfectionatrix on August 7, 2012.

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