Åsö

From the bed I can see the edges of daylight, the never darkening sky. The street outside is quiet, different. I have stayed in her apartment before, that homeless summer when I dragged my bags to the homes of angels, but this is not the same place. She has dragged her bags too, bought a new life and tried it to make it hers. I wonder if she thinks the pieces fit. 

Some days I miss that summer. When the city was brand new and ever day only revolved around where to sleep, and to compensate sorrow with sunlight. Life is lived better in drama. These steady, reliable days do me no good. I push away the reeds that lean too heavy. 

Don't lean on me when the storm comes, my dear. I will fly my kite in the lightning and never notice you fall.