3:48 pm - Tuesday, Oct. 29, 2002
Song:
I'm lonely. Sort of.
I understand what this means. I'll stand outside afterwards and breathe in. The air smells like cinnamon in apple cider and wood burning in fireplaces. That�s the smell of fall. It snows leaves across your path as you walk down the street.
I�m layered heavily, but when I breathe in my lungs grab the freezing air and chill me. I feel like the air is edible, it slips down my throat so easily.
It�s fall slipping its way to winter soon. Everything tastes like Chap Stick, which I pile on to fight the cracked lips I live with every year about this time.
I want to run through a wheat field and carve a pumpkin. I wish I could transport myself and the boy to Vermont. I want mountains and snow. I want to curl up with him in front of a fireplace and make him cocoa.
I�m wishing fall away, yet begging it to stay as I wish the boy had never had to go home.
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