the sun will shine each and every morning for you and you will feel stronger than each and every day before, and this i promise you. my lungs have gradually blackened and have begun to ache but they reflect that missing link, and i don't mind if you don't mind. i remember being younger, sitting at those booth seats in restaurants early in the morning, just outside of town, and the sun warmed the linoleum table tops and the heat would balance on my cheeks and palms and fingertips and the waitress was always very young and pretty. our clothes held the prairie air closer to our skin and the ketchup tasted just a little better and the soda pop seemed more bubbly and sweet. we whispered conversations between sips of lemonaid and you would think that a feeling so perfect can only be so specific but my limbs between your limbs feels oh so very much the same. her bed while we were teenagers holds little truth any longer and i enjoy hating all the things that her and i had loved together, but your bed is a reminder that bitterness is a passing feeling that deserves little nurturing, and your heart which pumps the blood that blushes your cheeks and heats your belly which warms your spin makes all those shit faced lonely nights a worthy battle.
