A cure for insomnia

Whenever I think of calling him I imagine myself telling him everything I've been suppressing and him listening carefully, silently, without breathing. And in the end, when we've said our goodbyes and hang up, all the things that matter are always left unsaid. It's the way we dance around the fires instead of putting them out when we have the chance.

Chloe understands without asking, maybe she's been there too. "Let's get high" she says, "I have opium".

Mother is out, I heard her talking to Frank earlier but when I asked she said she was going to see someone else. Chloe and I spend this evening by an open window, smoking, waiting for the sunset. When it gets dark we might go out, I feel the urge to be touched, to touch and to leave someone behind in an unmade bed before the sun comes back up. To walk home across Manhattan at dawn, wearing black and smelling like spring flowers after a fire.