2003-09-06 @ 11:55 p.m.

Phone calls at 3 a.m. and we drift off into sleep, listening to the breathing, our breathing, over the telephone.

You're asleep, and on the line, for no apparent reason, but to assure me you're there.

You breathe, and you're there.

I hear the sounds of a soft slumber, and I picture your face. Eyes closed, lips parted, unaware of what's going on, sleeping.

Sleeping and breathing...

You breathe, and I know you're there.


I know you're there.

Tell me you're there...


Listening to: "The Martyr" by Cursive, playing itself, repeatedly, in my head...

<<before - after>>

The Weather Underground - 2008-11-12
- - 2008-05-06
She knows I can read. - 2008-05-06
William Jacobson - 2008-05-02
Lost Boys - 2008-04-30

everything © Claudia (2003-2008)