non je ne regrette rien
2004-10-04 & 12:08 a.m.

there are blankets and cold (but not too cold) feet and maybe we are madly shining. maybe this us, little pinpricks of an us, yelling to the world that we have something to say.
we burn harder because we know this doesn't go on forever. but we understand not wallowing and so we - we dance. we smell old mahogany bookcases and watch the october skies and believe that if a part of us fell off, it would drift to sea.