The days are empty, I try to be good and whole but often it feels like i’m treading above some sort of endless and meaningless breakdown- it comes out a lot lately and i feel no good about it. My boy takes me to the atlantic ocean this year for my birthday rather than the pacific. The trees on our street bloom with the white flowers that fall apart quickly and we buy a big sleeper truck to road trip in over the summer. I watch birds fly slowly and the buds on the trees of the cathedral on mott street early in the morning, warm and dark-cloudy, and think of how that’s how quiet i always want it to be.
My boy leaves for a long time, I'm occupied at my day job, wholly disconnected, I take a taxi home late every night and sit in my living room with the overhead lights on not sure what to do, can’t make it to the bed. It gets so cold everything goes numb, the cover of the streetlight falls off so instead of warm orange it shines cool blue though the bedroom curtains like moonlight. On Valentine's I find a 100 dollar bill on the ground and a white parakeet in a pasta tub in the basement. I leave the city for a weekend and stay in a log cabin, hike through the snow and can’t get over the little mountain towns. February is never my month though it wasn’t so low this time around.