The air felt like spring today, even though it’s still cold. Watching tendrils of steam curl off my shoulders still hot from the bath, cut by the breeze. The skunk was so sweet for something so smelly. It’s not worth being lonely any longer.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Miss says I’m wasting away. I tried to explain that my stomach is full; I can’t eat. It would do no good to explain that my heart dropped down and it’s sitting there, there’s no more room for food.
It’s been since your last visit, on that leave they gave you. I didn’t know how to greet you after your last letter, but I couldn’t help but hope. I waited in the rain for you that day, I know you weren’t pleased when you saw me soaked to the skin. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes.