An ode to home, real November, and the friends who don't need to know everything to know what I want and need: I miss it. I miss being more than these polite souls, who say hello in public, and are like sisters in shadows. I miss being in the cold air, crisp, with my voice puffing out laughs with the last of my breath in the freezing winter's night, running like our youth, our time together, out like a match. I miss the house I had lived in for fifteen "carefree" years, unaware of its fleeting glory, it's ineffable beauty of simplicity. I want nothing more than one more night on your moth-eaten, lumpy, comfy old sofa. With old movies and new, echoes of our childhood and our future playing alongside the soundtracks. I need one more silly spontaneous dessert date, if only to reaffirm that you will never waver, and will always be there. Even if you change your clothes, or your style, you'll be my homes. I wish for one day more: to make a change. To t...
forever striving to be a HURRICANE of eloquence .