Blogz

A bird crashed into my window. You could hear its wings shake and move as the mornings came rushing past noon.

Days grew longer as the yellow stucco outside of the blue roofing faded to an ecru– while every now and then he'd stop by the wayside & look into the skyline for those familiar yellow flowering trees.

You could hear the cicada’s murmur mid-day, as people went about their weekend business amidst the bustling shopping plazas and crowded parkways. 

The city raced faster than their thoughts, where hearts fluttered against the hot summer heat as sweat beaded atop pretty girls noses all along the rumbling alleyways.

I used to think decisions were easy, because you felt how you wanted-- and for you that was always enough.

Last week, I was back where things weren't as good as they were now. I went to 7th and Spring where I would walk around by myself and let thoughts simmer in the heat of the city. 

We'll sit on some adult terrace somewhere in some adult cafe over a cup of old coffee someplace downtown where nobody knows who we are or what we were, or any of the secrets kept between you and I.

Days grow old and I spend another week by myself and I fail to reply-- and they disappear--like wind that shook the branches and kept going. 

But you were just too much like mornings and sunsets and sunrises and all the hours of the day.