try as I might I will never understand (what it means to be at peace)

anyway, you should kiss me while the wind is cool. the bedsheets will be slept in for no more twilights, no blade nor bloom will be bent and printed in the shape of a shoe because I am leaving, forevermore.these weeks will be futileI haven't yet grasped celebrity culture nor waking at ungodly hours to toil, demented, at the working desk. I might instead call you milk-drunk, mouth slack and endlessly compliant. brow unreadable, the last vestiges of a hot-baked summer cast forevermore in the dip of my upper lip.-your obligatory collection of end-of-summer owh drabbles, where I allude to many vague alternate universes.