Is It Weird That I Genuinely Like Cheap Red Wine and Other Late Night Musings
My favorite smell you wear is chlorine after you’ve gone swimming at the gym.
I wish we could sleep with the windows open during winter without freezing. So we could listen to that sound I love. Of snow falling on snow, you know the one? Like rain’s graceful sister.
Why can’t I ever remember the endings of any of the movies I watch?
I miss your old house. The first one. The one with the cold tile floors on warm evenings and mismatched furniture that we never used. Where I sat on the countertop and watched the way you listened to every word I was saying.
Why does the dog resting his head on my knee, letting out a tired sigh and closing his eyes, always make me want to cry?
I yawn when I’m nervous. Did you notice it that day at the science center when I’d only been alone with you once before?
How come I can only ever write anything that matters late at night?
Your eyes squint even before your smile breaks when you are happy. I noticed it that day at the science center when we were alone for only the second time.
I guess cheap wine just tastes better knowing my bank account is still in tact when I accidentally finish the whole bottle and cry at the end of Star Wars when Darth Vader dies in Luke’s arms.