Into The Ocean

> How did you know I was home?
> The halls were quiet and you were the only sound.

Sleeping Lessons

I always thought I despised routine. Why do you think I'm an artist? I like instability and mind games. Apparently. But lately routine has brought comfort to the heart.

It's like last year; wake up, go for lunch together, back to the apartment for tea (possibly cheese and crackers), listen to music and chat about life (although this has become less "art talk" or "i love you's" or "the future holds" and more basic small discussion), more tea and later dinner accompanied by a film or two, desert and possibly a late night expedition to the grocery store/tim horton's/standing out in the cold.

He acts like a child once more, stomping in the slush so that it flies in my face. Teasing me. Sometimes making comments that make my mind question the motive, but hope is lost when it comes to us.

Yet it all builds and I feel overwhelmed sometimes. And I find my way back home too early, just wanting to curl up and sleep. Finding latent tears as I have passed the point of hysterical sobbing.

I prefer to stare at my world through a window sheated with ice, like it was last night. Pulling the boy outside to watch the wind blow it away onto the street, darting around puddles only finding one so willing to fill my shoes. Flickering lighters and coats shielding the cold from my cheeks. Paper thin documents of frozen rain fall to the ground in a spectacular installment of the night-storm. The wind making my eyes blush. Catering to the cautious flirting that took place in my head.