twenty-eight

Don't quite know what happened there. Maybe it's payback...but no no no, he's the good one. Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Him.

twenty-seven

There is an anger that you cannot contain and you know you should not fight back but the pure fucking indecency that someone could talk to you like that.

twenty-six

Disappeared.

And the most exciting thing that has ever happened to you does not get one congratulations from the people you thought knew you best. Third hand news and seeing clearly for the first time in years; this week is going to wear you down. Just...a...little...longer... Remember the goal. Always one goal in mind, so fucking clear you can see it when you close your eyes, taste it when you lick your lips. Nothing else matters right now, and you can forget them like they forgot you. A decade of silence. Bare feet on terracotta tiles. "Perennial and calm, but most of all...free."

twenty-five

Italy. Navigating the streets on a vespa, sketchbook in a satchel thrown over your shoulder. Pasta and pizza and deep red wine. Olives. Heat. Dust covered, sandal-sore feet. Pennies in the fountain. Basilicas and sweeping domes and orange groves and silent roads and a hint of peace in the heart of a city, sitting at the feet of a hero. Fruit from a market stall in the Campo de' Fiori, eaten on the shady steps of a deserted church. Walking along the Tiber in search of a breeze. Steps and steps and the baking sun on your shoulders and marble reflections blinding you momentarily. Cats curling around ancient pillars. Photographs of every corner and cornice. Tourist traps and off the beaten track. Open spaces and tiny courtyards and views over the rooftops that take your breath away. Everything you dreamed. And more. More.

twenty-four

And it is all worthwhile for one phone call and hearing see you on Friday like it's an every day thing and you meet up all the time like you used to. Like you've seen him in the past year. There is the air draining from your lungs when he says your name, and his chokey laugh when you tell him you have missed him. You are serious, but it always sounds like a joke, just like every other aspect of your relationship. Still, it will be nice for a proper smile from someone who curls his fingers in your hair when he hugs you.

twenty-three

Your hatred is completely inexplicable.

twenty-two

Do this one more time and I'll bite your fucking fingers off.