isn't it odd that the stars make no noise, i mean, considering their grandeur? they say in its most basic form our universe tastes of raspberries and smells of rum, wrapped in the rumbling of a low flying plane. it was amid these facts and the tender thoughts they conjured that i realized my wrongness with you. to react to such maladroit intimacy, pretending that i could ignore my inability for our meaninglessness to remain as such; and my commonplace. there was not a hint of romance save for the first few kisses and the rush of unaccustomed closeness between our hips, or maybe it was there in the ever forward march of the brazen spring sun, as it rolled across our backs the morning before my birthday. it could have crept in as i watched you puff away at a cigarette in the parking lot of niko's restaurant (i thought it funny that you didn't inhale) or maybe i caught a glimpse of it beneath the sheets and between your smiles as we whispered adventures to have in the thaw of spring. but what is nearest our hearts is the foremost on the mind and the first off our tongues, i was certainly not yours, and you were never meant to be mine.
