it’s freezing here. the temperature hasn’t risen above 30 for the last few weeks and the cold is under my skin. it takes hours to warm up after commuting back and forth to wherever i’m going to or coming from. i’ve spent my meager spare time underneath the covers wearing two pairs of wool socks to keep from shivering and i’ve been studying cocktails and applying to new jobs and crying over the way johnny cash’s hands shake in the video of him singing “hurt” as an old man.
the way he plays that one note on the piano over and over.
the way june is shown for just a moment, smiling.
that this video is known as johnny’s epitaph.
that he died wanting.
“what have i become?”
it’s freezing here and my skin is cold and dry, but my heart is full and warm.
it’s freezing here but my blood is flowing smoothly and coursing through my veins.
“you could have it all”
and the cold is moving through me, dissipating into a mere memory of the frozen concrete, and
you are here. emerging from hours of guitar playing to check on me and kiss me and quietly close the door as i finish writing