and in its July, we're twenty-three, we are young but old enough and it's perfect - drinking corona’s on the front porch on a summer night - having random stupid conversations, back when sexual tension was measured in in terms of her hitting me in the arm every two minutes.
this one came difficultly, i have some other thoughts on this, but they are vague and really not all that well thought through. i might update this later in the week.
it's kinda funny, its been eleven years and i can still remember the way she felt and smelled.
the face though has faded away years ago. theres this line in a song i heard once, "he put the bottle to his head and pulled the trigger.
i can relate.