what's left.
Tuesday, Sept. 23, 2003
there is nothing tangible to walk away from, is there?letters i stamped and sealed that sit in my messenger bag waiting for me to remember to drop them into any mailbox along the sidewalk,, but i don't quite have the nerve. sentences, formed and ended, waiting patiently in my head for me to say them with all of the emotion that was originally intended, but i don't understand the consequences. actions and facial expressions and small glimpses of mornings and empty whisky glasses and beer bottles and faltering and kisses and long evenings meandering through tired neighborhoods, but i don't understand how to walk away from these common denominators.
and that makes it harder, doesn't it?
